


Wildest Dreams

by geeky__chick



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Angst, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:43:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeky__chick/pseuds/geeky__chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the 8 months since the battle in Sokovia, the New Avengers are settling - somewhat tepidly - into their roles as heroes. Between jobs, they try to formulate some kind of a normal life, a routine, to remind themselves of what they fight for.</p><p>For Natasha Romanov and Steve Rogers, this proves to be a great deal more difficult. Natasha throws herself into a daily routine, while Steve works himself to the point of exhaustion. The rest of the team struggles to interfere, fearing they may only make things worse.</p><p>But when the Hulk is found destroying Buenos Aires, the team must come together to bring him back to himself. The consequences of having Bruce Banner back among the Avengers may tear the team apart for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Routine

_Say you’ll remember me_

_Standing in a nice dress_

_Staring at the sunset, babe_

_Red lips and rosy cheeks_

_Say you’ll see me again_

_Even if it’s in your_

_Wildest Dreams_

_~Taylor Swift_

He laid her on the clean blue bedspread, his body stretching over hers with infinite care. She’d never felt so delicate, so utterly safe than in this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing made her feel so secure as his arms around her. His kisses were tender, testing, teasing, as though he wasn’t sure why she was allowing such intimate contact.

Hands slid over skin, bared by the robe he’d opened before lying over her. They were treading water to keep from drowning in one another, while they wanted to do exactly that before it was lost. Were they lost already, in one another, in whatever was happening between them?

For Natasha Romanov, sex was a weapon, a tool, a way to get what she needed. It was never about intimacy, being close with someone. Was it supposed to be this way? Her heart hammered in her chest, breath stolen by something deeper than his drugging kisses. In those dark, soulful eyes, Natasha found herself centered.

She whispered his name as they touched, each trying to ensure they had mentally mapped every inch of their bodies. They moved together on the bed, never fighting for dominance, content to simply feel, to allow this to take them over.

Natasha whimpered when he moved inside of her, but she kept her gaze locked on his. For a moment, just a flicker that could have been a trick of the light, she thought those dark eyes flashed green. A moment later, though, it was gone. This wasn’t the ‘Other Guy’, not Hulk.

It was Bruce, just Bruce.

He whispered her name as they moved together, sweat-slicked flesh gliding as kisses stole moans to keep their lovemaking a secret. No one was to know what happened here, this moment was for them, for them alone.

Natasha clung to Bruce’s shoulders as she crested, pouring every emotion he drew from her body into a deep kiss. Bruce followed her over the edge, collapsing into her arms as they came down from the high.

They didn’t say anything.

There was nothing that needed saying.

 

**8 Months Later**

It was said that for a soldier, routine was the only thing that really mattered. After the call of battle, with the stench of blood and death and excrement clinging to a soldier’s uniform, it was soothing to get back to the basics, sliding into the routine that kept a person sane.

For former-spy Natasha Romanov, routine began when the alarm chirped at 5am. Never one to languish between the sheets, she was up at the first strings of a random cell phone concerto, kicking the blankets off of her overheated body.

She started with exercise, since it got the blood moving and the mind awake. Between sets of sit ups on her living room floor, she listened to the early morning news. It drowned out the thoughts in her head. During sets of push-ups and pull ups, Natasha fought back thoughts of Bruce.

A few squats and lunges gave way to a 3 mile run on the treadmill that brought sweat over her skin in rivers.

At 6:30 exactly, Natasha stepped into the shower. While hot water stripped away the post-workout grime, Natasha pushed away the image of the ‘Other Guy’ and his heartbroken face as he switched off the Quinjet’s comm. line. That moment was burned into her psyche, the instant that Bruce turned his back on her.

Perhaps it was only what she deserved.

Not thinking about Bruce was part of her routine, something she wasn’t quite ready to relinquish. Of course, if she really wanted to, Natasha could slide all of her memories of Bruce, every thought and feeling she had for him into a little box inside of her mind. She could lock it away, as she did with unwanted memories and emotions for two decades.

Honestly, though, Natasha wasn’t ready to let him go, not with such finality.

The former-spy pulled on a navy blue suit with a creamy top beneath the jacket with a pair of low-heeled pumps to match. Her arrow necklace was back around her neck, a gift from Laura Barton some years ago. It was her talisman, a reminder that her best friend and his family loved her, even when they were apart.

After breakfast, Natasha poured a second cup of coffee into a travel mug, grabbed her red-hourglass-embossed briefcase and left the apartment she rented in Buffalo, sliding into the sedate sedan Rogers had furnished her when she moved into the city.

It was a quick 25 minute drive at the posted speed limit to the NAF – New Avengers Facility. Natasha was waved through after a retinal scan for her and a detailed scan of her car. She entered with a tight, familiar smile to the guard, then parked in the space marked “N.R.”

A custom Harley-Davidson was parked in the space beside hers, from the angle of the handlebars, it hadn’t moved since yesterday, which meant it hadn’t been ridden since Wednesday.

_Damn it._

Natasha moved with purposeful steps toward the entrance, swiping her ID card and allowing the computer to scan her person. Once she was positively identified, she stepped inside to enjoy the cool of air conditioning. Who would have expected upstate New York to get so damned hot?

People were already moving, even at 8:30 on the dot. Researchers, scientists, maintenance workers, and various doctors already rushed about in the pursuit of keeping the world safe. They all had jobs; from intel to keeping the facility and vehicles ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Natasha was very aware that most of the loyalty was down to everyone wanting to be the person Captain Rogers wanted them to be. Something about that man just made everyone want to be a little bit of a better person.

It was Natasha’s job to funnel the intelligence on drug cartels, criminal organizations or terrorists and offer the good captain a choice of missions. They didn’t take them all, only those that could either be handled under the proverbial radar or that threatened whole populations. Still, there were plenty of those.

Aliens and other galaxies were up to the Vision to decipher. Natasha was more than happy to jump when that artificial lifeform said to.

As she moved toward her office, Natasha caught sight of Dr. Helen Cho moving toward her. The Korean woman wore her daily uniform of light green medical scrubs and a crisp white coat. According to the plump bottom lip between her teeth, however, there was something amiss.

In one heartbeat, Natasha knew what it was.

“Lounge or office?” Nat sighed by way of greeting.

“Office.” Helen said, her relief obvious. “I’ve ordered a strong breakfast for him as well as coffee for the both of you. He isn’t taking care of himself. Super-soldier or not, he needs to eat and sleep. His metabolism can turn against him if he isn’t fueling it right.”

Touched, again, by the way Helen minded after them all as a mother hen with only one chick, Natasha smiled. The younger woman was a genius level geneticist, but she worried more than anyone if their captain didn’t get his three squares a day. Natasha gave her a curt nod, jerking her head toward the office.

“I’ll get him out of here later on.” As she backed toward her office, Natasha arched a brow. “Could you make sure the 4D training room is clear in the next hour or so?”

Though it was far, far below her paygrade, the good doctor gave Natasha a demure bow. When she spoke, however, it was with steel.

“I will. But you make sure he eats every scrap of food first.”

Natasha held her hands up in mock surrender before she disappeared into her office.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stowed her briefcase in her own office, setting her empty coffee cup beside it. Grabbing the messages pinned to her door, Natasha ducked across the hall and walked into Steve’s perpetually un-locked office door.

None of them really _needed_ offices. They all had their little jobs, things to do as Avengers. Most came in on a daily basis, to punch the clock, as Hawkeye phrased it. They ran through simulations, shifted through intelligence and data, they worked on new tech to make the world a safer place.

Still, it was nice to have a little desk of her own, a place to sit and think or work…sometimes it was good to just blast her music as loud as she could. The others used their offices as well, though no one was a ‘dedicated’ to their work as Steve Rogers.

When she stepped into the office, she immediately reached for the cell phone in her pocket. Not bothering to hide the smirk that crossed her lips, Natasha snapped a photograph of their Captain America, then sent it to Stark, Wilson, and Barton. As an afterthought, she then sent it to Rhodes, Maximoff, and Helen.

It was adorable, she had to admit.

Steve lay asleep at his desk, his angelic blond hair spread all over the reports he’d been reading when his body finally gave out. His hands were palm-down on the desk as well, as though someone had simply shoved him forward as he slept. His cheeks were all pink from sleep, his long eyelashes dusting the apples just slightly. That adorable little mouth was partially open as he breathed.

This was Captain America, looking like a sleeping schoolboy.

Natasha thought that was part of his charm.

Now that the prank was done – Stark would have that picture on Facebook by now – Natasha crept closer. Even in heels, she was silent as a grave as she slipped up to the desk. With a silent giggle, she reached out one finger and booped the end of Steve’s nose.

“Helen?”

Natasha’s eyebrows flew into her hairline. Steve’s eyes opened immediately and he sat up, posture perfect, to blink at her.

Unable to help it, Natasha waved a cheeky little greeting with the hand still clutching her phone.

“Great.” Steve said with a roll of his eyes. “Stark’s got to be having a field day with that.”

“Probably.” Natasha smirked. She perched on the edge of his desk while her friend tried to shake himself fully awake. Military training or not, no one woke up after a 4-day haul completely aware. “So, how’s that new apartment treating you?”

Steve lifted a brow at Natasha’s words, his eyes glazing a bit as he tried to hide whatever it was that bothered him. “It’s fine.”

Shaking her head, Natasha stowed her mobile as a polite knock on the door heralded the arrival of the Cap’s breakfast. Natasha moved toward the door backward.

“Helen says you’re to eat it all.” The assassin said sagely. “And you’re still a terrible liar, you know that?”

A giddy Private was allowed in, the tray in his hands shaking a little. The boy was probably barely of legal age to work for the military, and he was losing his cool standing in front of his idol. When Steve graciously thanked him, the boy blushed to his roots and beat a hasty retreat.

“He’s your biggest fan.”

Natasha took her preferred seat at the front of his desk, watching as he pulled the plastic cover from the enormous plate set down in front of him. A heaping helping of eggs, half a pig’s worth of bacon, two fluffy biscuits, and what looked like a large serving of fried potatoes. Natasha lifted her brows in Steve’s direction as he took it all in.

“There’s no way I can eat all of this.” Steve protested.

“Well, you better.” Nat replied easily. “I’m not getting on Helen’s bad side.”

Steve offered her a small glare, but lifted his fork and began to eat. Natasha reached across the desk to take one of the coffee cups for herself, slipping just a tiny bit of sugar in before she sat back to sip.

They lapsed into silence as Steve ate. Natasha wondered, again, why Steve so rarely slept at the apartment he had found for himself. It was neat, Natasha recalled from one visit when his bike wouldn’t start, and roomy. The view of a nearby wooded area was pristine, the neighbors very kind. His furnishing were comfortable, tasteful and filled the apartment with warmth. Nat found she liked the place very much, which was one reason her apartment was only a few streets over.

But more than once, Steve stayed at the office for days at a time. He would go for 4 or 5 days without sleep, surviving on coffee and energy bars. Then, Nat or Sam would arrive at NAF to find their leader passed out in his office or on the sofa in the Avengers’ lounge.

After the last time, the team decided in unison, that they would actively mention it the next time it happened.

That conversation was barely two weeks old.

When Steve reached the halfway point of his meal – she’d known he would finish it – she set her coffee cup on the arm of her chair and met Steve’s gaze.

“So, do you remember why you forced everyone to move out of the temp quarters here a few months ago? Wasn’t there some sort of speech we all had to listen to?”

Cap looked faintly guilty as he swallowed a mouthful of bacon. He nodded, wiping his lips with a napkin before he answered her.

“Yes.” Steve answered honestly. “Everyone needs to have a real home, and a life outside of the Avengers. It’s to remind us what we fight for every time we go out there.”

Natasha nodded once. “Right. Ok, do your rules only apply to the rest of us?”

The super soldier set his fork down, sitting back as he munched on a hunk of his biscuit. He looked a little lost for a moment, perhaps thinking of the 70 years he had lost in defeating the Red Skull. Was he considering the time gone by as lost to him forever?

“I don’t know.” Steve’s answer was honest. “That’s not the sort of leader that I want to be. I can’t sleep there. I think of all the things I need to do, the things that might happen.”

“We all do.” Nat cut in, sitting up a little. “But that’s why we come in here, every day. That’s why we have cell phones and comm. devices and F.L.I.P. in our cars and homes. We’re prepared.”

“I know.” The blond man sighed. “I just…”

Exhaling softly, Natasha was forced to bring out the big guns.

“This started after Peggy died.”

The silence that greeted these words was thick enough to walk on. She had gone with him to the funeral, clinging to Steve’s arm as he watched the love of his life be buried with full honors. Peggy Carter had shaped the world, borne her husband children, and lived to see her grandchildren married. She’d had a full, wonderful life.

A life that she should have lived with the man sitting across from Natasha now.

“Yeah.” Steve answered. “When I remembered, the ice took that life from me. I don’t need it now.”

“We all do.” Natasha said more forcefully than she had intended. “Steve, we all need something to hold on to. Clint has his family. Wanda has the memory of her brother, and whatever the hell is going on with her and Vision. Sam has his mission, his friends, _you_. Rhodey has Tony and Pepper, and vice versa.”

“And you?” Steve shot back with heat. “What have you got?”

Natasha swallowed hard, pushing away thoughts of dark curls and warm brown eyes. She knew, however, that Steve had seen that.

“I have Clint and his family.” Natasha said quietly, sitting back in her chair. “And a memory of something that could have been really great.”

Her friend rubbed a hand over his face, taking a moment to down his coffee. She guessed it was something they had in common, the regrets for what might have been. Natasha looked away from Steve, out the window and over the field where their guards and soldiers were mustering for morning PT.

The silence wasn’t as companionable as before, so she wasn’t surprised when Steve spoke first. He hated uncomfortable silences.

“I’ve got you and Sam,” he said in his quiet way. “That’s all I need.”

Natasha shook her head. “I know you think you buried the guy that wanted something normal out of life when Peggy died, but it’s not something you can just wish away, Rogers.”

“I know that.” Steve continued, taking the last bite of his bacon. Apparently, he took Helen’s orders seriously. “I just need to focus on the job.”

“That’s never gotten any of us what we want.” Natasha shot back.

“You’re a hardass, Romanoff.”

Natasha adopted a serious expression. “Language!”

Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands so that his voice was muffled. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Not while Stark and I are around.”

The laugh they shared was quiet, but it broke the tension a moment before the office door popped open.

It was Wanda Maximoff, wearing her usual uniform of a black skirt, black boots, and a red jacket.

“Morning. I am not interrupting?”

Natasha smiled at the young Avenger, waving her in as she stood to say hello. Wanda was still very shy, but ultimately dedicated to becoming an Avenger. She had the strongest bond with Clint, however. He called her often and Natasha knew she’d be heading to the farm along with her come Christmas.

Laura was going to have her hands full.

“Morning, Wanda.” Steve said as he finished his breakfast. He pointed to the plate, looking through the glass wall of his office. Natasha turned, her smirk widening when she noted Helen standing in the hall, as though she were checking to be sure he had followed the doctor’s orders.

The doctor nodded once, obviously satisfied, before she continued toward her lab.

“Careful.” Natasha whispered. “I think she’s sweet on you.”

“Shut up.” Steve shot back as Wanda came closer.

“I have news.” Wanda said, her nerves forcing her to fidget with hands that softly glimmered with crimson magic. Natasha stepped back. Sometimes their Scarlet Witch didn’t have _total_ control of her gifts.

“News? Hit me.” Steve grinned, making the girl blush.

“Mr. Stark called. His intelligence is with the Vision.” Wanda said, her nerves seeming to intensify. “We may have a location on Dr. Banner.”

Natasha forced herself to remain completely still. Steve glanced at her as Wanda continued, probably explaining that something was tearing apart Buenos Aires. That was where he had settled some two months ago, possibly doing there what he had in Calcutta. Natasha had habitually scanned world news for the last 8 months, looking for any indications that the Hulk had been unleashed. So far as she could find, Bruce had not had an incident like the one in South Africa since Wanda toyed with his mind.

For her own piece of mind, Natasha kept the fact that she knew where he was to herself.

“Nat?” Steve called her name softly, dragging her from her thoughts. Wanda was flouncing out of the office, her long dark hair swinging behind her. Steve kept his voice low. “Anything I say here will be wrong, so…I’ll go get the team together.”

Natasha nodded once, allowing Steve to step out of his office. She took a moment, just one heartbeat to feel the pain she had felt when the big guy turned off that video call. What could have happened to remove the safeguards of his mind? How had the Other Guy been set free?

Was there any way to bring him back without hurting people?

After that moment, Natasha squared her shoulders and followed Captain America.


	2. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers attempt to capture the Hulk with devastating results.

  
****

Chapter Two: Lullaby

 

“Report.”

Steve Rogers had very little patience at the moment. Since learning that his colleague and – dare he say it – friend had turned into his monstrous alter ego with the sole intent of destroying an entire city, he’d been a little edgy. That wasn’t to say he was the worst of the group.

No one bothered trying to talk to Natasha.

Well, no one except Wanda.

Colonel James Rhodes, better known as War Machine, turned from his place at the Quinjet’s controls to face the leader of the New Avengers. Beside him, Sam Wilson flew co-pilot, though he knew both men preferred their suits to being in the cockpit.

Not all of them could fly.

“Vision?” War Machine asked as his hands flew over the controls to adjust what looked like their altitude. “Care to take this one?”

“Certainly, Colonel.”

The fuchsia-hued artificial lifeform stood from where he had patiently been strapped into a chair, his hand casually plugged into F.L.I.P.’s mainframe, so he could immediately download the information being fed to the jet. Even after nearly a year, the sound of a voice so like J.A.R.V.I.S coming from a face, a body, was just a little unsettling.

Only Wanda seemed to have no problem communicating with Vision. Maybe that was because she hadn’t known the supercomputer that acted more as butler to Iron Man and his alter ego.

“It appears that Dr. Banner has been quietly residing in Argentina for the last several weeks. It is currently unknown what sparked the incident that we are now attempting to dissolve.” Vision’s voice was curt, devoid of animosity or worry. Why was that also a little creepy?

Steve mentally shook himself. _Focus._

“At the last check, the Hulk was moving through several housing sites at the southern edge of the coastline. So far, the injuries have been minimal and there are no fatalities.”

“How is that possible?” The accented voice of Wanda Maximoff asked. Steve turned to his left, where both she and Natasha had come to stand as the team looked over the holographic map showing the Hulk’s path of destruction.

“Someone could be steering him,” Natasha said in that quiet tone that hid anxiety. “Or they triggered him in a safe area.”

Vision nodded, his thoughts controlling what was shown on the view screen. He replaced the holo-map with real-time news footage. Enormous and green, the Hulk moved almost aimlessly through the streets. As the Avengers watched, he lazily lifted a small car, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. Though they could not hear what was happening, Steve frowned. It almost appeared as though the Hulk were lost or ill.

“Nat?”

Steve turned to her, aware that the assassin had spent the most time with Bruce Banner and the ‘Other Guy’. If there was something familiar in this bizarre behavior, Natasha would be the person to understand it.

The red-haired woman merely shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

Vision, his timing perfect as always, changed the image again to the map. It showed the Other Guy’s route through the city. There seemed to be no pattern, the line crossing back over itself, twisting and turning as though utterly random. This was not the Hulk hell bent on destruction.

“He is lost.” Wanda said softly, staring up at the holographic map as though her powerful mind could touch the Hulk.

“We need to find him and shut down the Hulk,” Steve said, cutting in before Wanda could continue. “Are the local forces in pursuit?”

“We called them off five minutes ago,” Wilson chimed in from the co-pilot’s chair. “They’re keeping civilians away, but they want us there an hour ago.”

“Can’t say that I blame them,” Steve responded.

“Captain.” Vision cut in, his taut tone the only evidence that something was amiss. “I have intercepted radio traffic. General Ross has sent in a team. Boots are on the ground.”

“Shit.” Wilson swore. As Steve turned, he noted that the man flapped one dark hand as though in dismissal. “Sorry, Cap.”

Wanda offered a sly smile, to which Steve merely leveled a serious look.

Natasha was already moving toward the motorcycles in the launch bay. It seemed she was going to quadruple check her equipment. Steve didn’t blame her, not really.

“Alright. Hover the jet over the city. Vision, Falcon, and War Machine, I want you three to lead Hulk away from the population. Stay aloft and don’t let him get hold of you.”

Steve was pulling on the jacket of his suit as he spoke. He thanked Vision with a nod as the other Avenger helped with a tricky button on the collar. Wanda stood close to them both, though she seemed perpetually glued to the Vision’s side.

“Wanda, Nat, and I will take care of Ross’ men.” Steve announced, ignoring the sharp look he received from Natasha. “Scarlet Witch, if you can get them to lay down arms and take a nap, that’d be mighty helpful.”

The dark haired Avenger nodded once. “ _Da.”_

“Cap, shouldn’t you just let me lullaby the Other Guy?”

Steve shook his head, buckling his helmet on quickly. “We don’t know if that’ll work, and we can’t play games with Ross’ men here.”

“Steve.” Natasha pressed.

“No, Romanov. You have your orders.”

It was harsh and he knew it. Steve did look up as she stood by her bike, her cool glare almost worse than any hissy fit she might throw. When Natasha was quiet, she was calculating and nothing was more dangerous for that woman than time. Given five minutes, Natasha was lethal, anything longer meant it wouldn’t be a quick death.

“Slight change of plans, Cap.” Rhodes said suddenly from the pilot’s seat. “They’re locking on. Get ready to drop.”

Steve moved at a dead run, swinging his leg over the seat of his Harley-Davidson as he called for the shield that was his primary weapon. Nat was already seated on her own bike, with enough room behind her for Wanda.

The slender young woman kneeled on the secondary seat, her hands lightly grasping Natasha’s shoulders for balance.

Steve looked up as the Vision opened the launch bay doors. He was looking directly over Natasha’s shoulder, but Steve didn’t dwell on a lover’s goodbye. Later, if they all managed to get through this, they would deal with whatever was happening with Vision and their resident witch.

“Stay close,” Wanda was saying as Steve turned the ignition on his bike and switched the gear to neutral. “I will cover you as long as I can.”

With a nod, Captain America gave the order. “Drop!”

As the jet dove to only a few meters off of the ground, the concussion of flying projectiles sounded around them. Steve found himself covered in a haze of crimson as the two motorbikes hit the ground running. Wanda’s psionic shield kept him from being hit before he got his bearings. He swerved the handlebars of his bike to throw himself toward the firing squad, startling them as he burst through the Scarlet Witch’s protection.

His vibranium shield left his arm with a careful swing, pinging off of a pair of weapons before the others were able to duck for cover. In the comm. device he heard Falcon state the location of the jet a beat before the three aerial Avengers flew over him toward the south.

“Widow, Witch, on my six.”

“Got it.”

Knowing that the ladies were behind him, Steve rode over the barricades that Ross’ men had erected in record time. They had not expected the Avengers, that much was certain. The ringing of his shield came a beat before the shots of Natasha’s gun. She was aiming above, to the side, careful to not actually hit someone. They needed the others focused on them so that Wanda could work her magic.

“Witch!” Steve called out, careful to use her codename. “There’s a lot of these guys.”

“Yes,” came the accented and slightly irritated reply. “Which is why it is taking so long.”

Steve chuckled to himself, sliding the bike around another corner. When he noted what was waiting for them, he flipped the Harley into a sharp U-turn.

“Go back.”

“Oh, great.” He heard Natasha on the comm. line. “They have tanks, too.”

“Missing the Big Guy right about now.”

“Yep.”

“Launch!” Wanda interrupted their banter as they retreated.

Steve passed Wanda and Natasha, giving just enough of a pause so that Wanda could launch herself onto his bike. With a routine they had only done in the 4D training room, Steve braked the bike hard, popping up the back wheel.

Wanda lifted herself into the sky with some effort, a circle of scarlet surrounding her body. Once Steve was sure she would stay aloft, he gunned the engine to outrun the tank that was swiftly following.

“I think these guys are serious.” Natasha said, turning to fire her gun at a weakened beam of wood hanging above the city. Steve turned slightly to toss his shield, managing to change the trajectory of the turret just in time to miss being blown from his bike by an explosive.

“Ok, part ways.” Natasha barked into the comm.

Steve took a sharp left as she turned right, the two of them working their way down abandoned alleys. The rise and fall of steps was easy enough to navigate. Every time he came to a barricade, Steve noted the soldiers behind it were sleeping. He grinned to himself. Sometimes that witch of theirs was downright amazing.

“Cap, we have to take out the tank.”

“Run them east, toward the water. Normally, I’d ask Scarlet Witch to take it out.”

“She’s a little busy with her own lullaby right now.”

“The path on the southeastern road is clear.” Wanda’s voice showed strain. Cap knew she couldn’t hold herself up and keep the soldiers asleep for much longer. “You should move now.”

“Got it.”

Steve gunned the engine again, taking a soft right, then a hard left. He found himself in front of the tank in a heartbeat, swinging his shield at it so hard that the impact-proof glass over the cockpit cracked.

The turret turned towards him as Natasha whizzed by.

“Widow, see if you can disable the barricades, trap the soldiers inside without hurting them.”

“Roger.”

She whirled by once more, a blur of red and black. Steve took the tank behind him, surprised by how fast the damn thing really was. Of course, this was a team designed to take out the Hulk, slow didn’t usually work.

Luckily, the civilians were all out of the streets. Steve kept a straight angle on the motorway, ducking and weaving to avoid the turret when it managed to fire. Once, he could feel the heat of the missile as it collided with a coffee shop to his right, but the soldier managed to get away without losing control of the bike.

He reached the dock and made a snap decision. The tank was slowing down, but Steve had enough room to move now. Grounding the bike took a lot of his heart, though he jumped from the seat in time to singe himself with a few asphalt-induced sparks.

A barrel roll landed him on top of the tank with a muted _clang_. Shouting erupted from inside, but Steve only chuckled. One good shot with his shield and a twist of his arms made the turret inoperable. Once that was done, Steve reached for the cockpit hatch, opening it while using his shield to protect himself.

A few bullets pinged harmlessly from the circle of vibranium. Steve rolled his eyes, reaching into the cockpit to locate the pilot. He tossed the man, one armed, over the edge of the tank, before reaching in to finish the job with the co-pilot. Finished with the useless humans, Steve jumped into the cockpit to stomp on the controls.

“Tank is decommissioned.” Captain America called into his comm. “Status?”

“Barricades are down, soldiers are trapped and only two of them got hurt.”

Steve chuckled to himself. That wasn’t so bad. “Scarlet Witch?”

“Landing shortly.” The youngest Avenger sounded tired, but focused.

“Flight Squad?” Steve asked, jumping down from the tank to rush toward his bike.

“We could use some help, yeah.” Sam replied, his breath short. “I think we pissed him off.”

“Oh,” Steve said to himself as he re-mounted his Harley. “Great.”

 

~**~

Timing was imperative when working with the Avengers. Wanda timed her descent perfectly, landing with a soft touch behind Captain America. Steve did not even glance over his shoulder as he continued without slowing. He trusted her to not fall off of the bike. It was that trust that had brought Wanda out of her shell.

What started in that abandoned house in Sokovia with Hawkeye solidified under the tutelage of Captain America.

Wanda kept one hand on Steve, the other free to toss crimson energy, should she need to. She used that free hand to deftly move obstacles out of their path, keeping to the right so she would not block the way for Natasha.

As they reached the deeper part of the city, Wanda looked above. She found her friends flying overhead, Falcon and War Machine focusing on drawing the attention of the Hulk.

Where was the Vision?

“Nat, keep him occupied while I get Wanda closer.” Steve was saying into their comm. devices. “Witch, think you can knock him out?”

Though she was exhausted from the energy required to shield, fly, and make a group of soldiers unconscious, Wanda nodded once. “ _Da._ I will need to be closer.”

The motorcycle beneath her whined as Cap gunned the engine. His feet changed the gears as they took a ramp toward the rooftops. If nothing else, riding on the back of a Harley with Black Widow or Captain America was always thrilling.

“Where is Vision?” Wanda asked when another scan of the sky did not show him.

“On the ground,” Wilson replied as he fired small projectiles from his enhanced wing suit. “He’s not going to last much longer though.”

“Vision!” Steve called out as they jumped to another rooftop. The Hulk was visible on the ground below them, stumbling through the decimated remains of what looked like a coffee shop. “Get Witch, you’ll probably be able to get closer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wanda turned her body toward the side of the motorcycle, the mental link she shared with the Vision opening to allow him in. Inside of the android’s mind, Wanda found peace and thoughtfulness. He told her very early after losing Pietro that she was welcome to link with him if it brought her comfort.

In battle, it made them a nearly-flawless team.

_I need to touch him._ Wanda’s voice filtered into Vision’s mind as he plucked her easily from the back of Cap’s Harley.

Vision held her across his arms, floating them easily toward the ambling form of the Hulk. _I understand._

As they neared the sauntering beast that housed the brilliant mind of Bruce Banner when he wasn’t angry, Wanda flexed the fingers of her left hand. She pulled all thoughts of peace, of quiet and calm into the energy forming in her hand. If she were able to get this through the Hulk’s defenses, it was possible he would return to Banner.

At the very least, something this powerful might put him into a trance.

“Wait!”

It was Natasha’s voice that halted the Vision.

“Not now, Natasha!” Steve’s voice was angry. Wanda could see his motorcycle fly by as Hulk moved toward him brandishing what looked like the bumper of a car. “Let Wanda do her job.”

“He wouldn’t forgive us!” Natasha said hurriedly.

_There_. Vision whispered into Wanda’s mind. She followed his eye line, finding Natasha approaching the Hulk. She climbed over the rubble of what had once been a brick and mortar wall, calling out her usual greeting to the Hulk.

“Hey, big guy.” Natasha’s soft voice rang out. “The sun’s gettin’ real low.”

She raised a hand as though in submission and the Hulk dropped the car bumper to the asphalt with a metallic _clang_. Wanda closed her eyes, the ball of energy still clutched in one hand. Her mind reached for Banner’s, trying to grasp at him through the chaos that ruled the Hulk’s mind.

Confusion. Sorrow. _Rage_. His mind reflected the beast he became with the change. Wanda flinched from it, wanting to withdraw her touch from the bedlam. Pandemonium reigned inside of the Hulk, making it impossible for the doctor within to soothe the beast.

He even showed no recollection of Natasha…

Hulk’s massive green fist came down toward the woman as he howled with rage. Wanda gasped as her friend narrowly avoided being pulverized into fleshy mush. Natasha scrambled away, but the Hulk followed. He batted at her with one hand, knocking the Black Widow through a nearby shop window that had miraculously stayed undamaged. He moved toward her again. Wanda could see Natasha clambering to stand.

A blue and black blur met the Hulk in the chest, followed by the tinny ring of a vibranium shield bouncing off of his head. Captain Rogers had come to Natasha’s rescue.

_Put me down!_ Wanda ordered Vision. _Get Natasha._

_Yes, she is injured._

Vision released Wanda so she could float herself to the ground, an effort that almost took the last reserves of her strength. Once land-based, Wanda took off at a dead run, tossing stinging balls of crimson magic toward the beast now trying to destroy the captain of her team.

War Machine and Falcon swooped in from above. Wanda raised both hands, grinning when Falcon grabbed on to one and War Machine the other.

“This is crazy!” shouted Rhodes. Wilson merely laughed.

“Red Rover, Red Rover, throw Witchy right over.”

Wanda had no time to contemplate the sing-songy little tune that Sam had sung. She was hurtling through the air as someone shouted for Steve. The ball of peace, of kindness and calm in her hands grew as she somersaulted toward the raging beast.

This was madness…

_Wanda!_

Closing her eyes, bracing her body for the impact, Wanda shoved her hands forward. The Hulk released a terrifying roar as her scarlet energy ball slammed into the base of his neck. Wanda grunted at the impact of her slight body against the heft of the Hulk, her vision threatening to turn black as she landed on the rubble-strewn asphalt.

Silence seemed to take over the expansive destruction the Hulk had left in his wake. Wanda pushed up onto her hands, looking over the team as Wilson and Rhodes landed nearby.

“Bruce?”

Blinking the dust from her eyes, Wanda turned toward the hulking beast they fought only moments before. The green hue that clung to the massive creature’s skin was fading back to a pale, pale shade. His body shrunk in on itself, even as he tried to crawl away, as though the pain were too much to bear.

Afraid to feel it, Wanda drew her mind back from his.

Hulk was transforming back into Banner and he was crawling directly toward the injured Natasha. She crouched beside the Vision, cradling an obviously broken arm as the pained form of the man she once loved reached for her.

“Tasha…” Banner’s voice was weak, gravelly, as though he were awaking from a long illness.

For her part, Natasha remained still when the dark haired man moved closer. It seemed as though everyone held their breath, waiting to see how this would play out. He reached her crouching form, all but crawling into her embrace as his weakened body trembled.

“Guys?” Wilson said, breaking the quiet so that both Rhodes and Wanda jumped. “We have to get Steve out of here.”

Wanda climbed to her feet wearily, finding Captain America lay still against a broken slab of concrete. She rushed to his side, grasping his hand. He was her friend, a kind soul that Wanda trusted completely.

She could see the fear in his eyes when he looked at her.

“I can’t move.” Steve whispered. “I can’t move.”


	3. Amid the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Bruce and Steve recover from the incident in Buenos Aires, Natasha must decide how she feels, Steve thinks about the future.
> 
> Wanda shares a classic tale with the Vision.

**Chapter Three: Amid the Storm**

 

He could feel her presence in his mind, familiar though so different from the last time she was there. It was gentler this time, not angry and invasive. She slid in softly, slowly, as though she knew that permission had been granted.

His lab was tidy, as always. That meant Tony hadn’t been by. When his friend was in the building, mess exploded around him. It wasn’t a conscious need by the genius inventor to be messy, he simply had an irreverent way of moving that seemed to spread a sort of controlled chaos wherever he went.

Still, Bruce liked having the lab to himself. Helen wasn’t so bad, either, since she was quiet and neat. When it was quiet, Bruce could hear his own thoughts. Sometimes, if all was silent, he could converse with the primal being that slumbered inside of him.

Talking with the Other Guy wasn’t really possible, but he could get impressions, or feelings from the being. Bruce didn’t appreciate the creature he created within himself, but over time he was able to get a firmer grasp on how to control the rage, the pain, the primal urges brought out so violently by this suppressed side of him.

Today, however, Bruce could not hear the Hulk. That was, of course, because Bruce was not in control of the body the separate entities shared.

Outside of the lab, where the heavy panes of glass normally looked into the common areas of the Avengers Tower, all Bruce could see were thick, angry clouds mingled with fat, heavy raindrops. He knew what that meant, what it always meant. When he found himself locked in his favorite place with the storm raging outside, it was an indication that he had lost control.

That couldn’t have meant anything good.

The calm, soft presence of the girl made things a touch more intriguing. Bruce pulled the spectacles from his nose, looking up from the equation scrawled in his own handwriting on the clipboard in his non-dominant hand.

“Wanda.”

Her smile was sweet, almost shy. How changed was this girl from the person whom aided Ultron and tried to pull the Avengers apart with their own fears. No longer was she that terrified girl hell-bent on revenge. There shone conviction from those dark eyes, even as her smile trembled.

_I know you’re angry._

_Oh, we’re way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade._

Bruce recalled the moment before Vision was born with a twinge of both guilt and pain. What he had done as a reaction to Wanda’s terrifying gifts in South Africa would haunt the remainder of his life, but she had risked her own, lost her brother to right the wrongs caused by that vendetta.

Why would she come for him?

“Bruce.”

The girl came closer, her long-fingered hands twitching in that oddly alien way she had. Bruce kept his distance. Whatever was going on couldn’t have been good news, especially with as hard as the storm raged outside of his lab.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re trapped.” The girl replied with her accented voice soft. “I had to force you to change, but you will not wake.”

Bruce nodded. That wasn’t a surprise with the swirling clouds around his laboratory. Since he was mostly coherent, Bruce assumed he had changed back from the towering green monster that took control, but the lack of consciousness would have his friends afraid for him.

He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye, that shock of fire red hair, the depth of her bright green eyes. Bruce couldn’t ask about her, not now, not after what he had done. If he thought about it too much, he could smell the soft floral scent of her shampoo.

Forcefully, Bruce pushed aside the image of Natasha, focusing on the girl moving toward him.

“Maybe it’s best if I don’t wake up.”

Wanda’s smile was tentative, but the Sokovian woman shook her head.

“You don’t believe that, Dr. Banner.” She said with conviction. “I know that you do not want to be left here. If you take my hand, I will lead you home.”

Bruce offered a smile of his own, knowing the gesture didn’t really meet his eyes. He didn’t know why she had come to him or why she would volunteer to navigate through his mind to save him. She couldn’t have done it on her own, with no idea how to monitor her progress. Bruce assumed that meant the Vision was nearby, perhaps even Helen Cho.

“I’m back at the Avengers Tower, aren’t I?” Bruce asked, suddenly wondering where Tony was.

“No,” Wanda shook her head. “You are housed at the New Avengers Facility in New York. Dr. Cho is monitoring your condition.”

There seemed to be a stressed tightening around her dark eyes, a slight frown to her mouth that belied her unhappiness. Bruce immediately knew something on the outside world was very wrong.

“I hurt someone, didn’t I?”

Wanda did not answer immediately. She stared at him with those soulful dark eyes on his. Bruce didn’t know her well. How could he? Even before the end of the battle with Ultron, Bruce’s alter ego had encouraged him to flee.

Was that the best decision he ever made? Would he live to somehow regret that one moment?

“Captain Rogers is injured,” Wanda said at last. Her tone was soothing, soft. When she reached for his hand, Bruce found the flesh there oddly warm. How could that be? Weren’t they locked in his mind?

“Do not overthink things here,” Wanda continued with a mysterious little smile. “This is the Astral Plane, and even I do not know everything about it.”

“Ah,” Bruce said with what might pass as a smile, but felt more like a grimace. “So, you’ve got home field advantage here.”

At the confusion that crossed her delicate features, Bruce shrugged. “Never mind.”

Wanda’s fingers were no longer twitching. Bruce could feel a sort of subdued strength in her long fingers, in the way she wove them through his. It was, he knew, a gesture of solidarity. She was practically begging him to trust her. As they stared at one another across the scant inches separating them, Bruce swallowed thickly.

“I’m afraid.”

Wanda nodded once. “Yes. And waking will not be easy. But, you are an Avenger, as I am. I will take you home, Bruce.”

Bruce exhaled slowly before nodding. “Ok. Lead the way.”

 

~**~

He wasn’t really ready to wake up. On the fringes of his consciousness, he could feel the pain. It seeped in through the skin, sunk into his bones, so that the very center of his being ached with it. Though Steve could remember the moments of battle, he wasn’t all that sure how he managed to get back to the NAF.

His dreams were only half-remembered. He didn’t really need to recall what his mind wanted him to, not really. Though he had told Tony Stark that he thought the man who wanted a family, a life outside of the fight had been buried under the ice, he knew better. Every night, the same dreams. A home, the laughter of children, a warm hand clutching his.

For the first time in 70 years, however, Steve didn’t have a face to match that image. It was no longer that of Peggy Carter, the woman he had loved so fully through his life. She had gone from them, after living the sort of life Steve wanted her to have, even if it couldn’t be with him.

Still, was it wrong to want that? Was he worthy of love, of family, of all the things he had once wished for every night before he lay his head down?

As Steve opened his eyes, he immediately found the familiar face of Helen Cho beside him. The Korean woman had her eyes glued to what looked like a medical chart, those nimble fingers dancing over the tablet in her hands, before she adjusted something on the Cradle’s key panel. Steve shifted his head, just slightly, smiling at the beautiful woman’s face.

Helen came on to the Avengers as a medical doctor, a scientist who knew more about genetics than anyone else on earth. She frequently helped patch them all up with her improved Cradle, regrowing flesh and knitting together broken bones in days.

Someday soon, she hoped the technology would be available to everyone on earth. Stark was busily trying to make that a reality.

Though Helen was a genius, she also acted as the conscience for the Avengers. If someone needed to eat, rest, or have a night out to decompress, Helen made sure that happened. Nothing went on in the facility without Cho’s hand being elbow-deep in it. For some reason, that made half of their recruits terrified of the petite woman while the rest panted after her.

Watching her from his place in the Cradle, Steve could understand why. Big brown eyes were framed with an enticing spray of dark lashes. Dewy skin gave way to a generous mouth, which curved into a soft smile more often than not. Today, as with most days, Helen had swept her long dark hair into a loose bun, keeping it out of her face. Her hands were a specific source of fascination for the captain. Long fingers, blunt nails that were well clipped and shone with clear polish. Confidence and certainty radiated from those fingers.

All in all, Helen was a beauty to behold, one that moved charcoal over his parchment more than once over the last two years.

“You’re awake.”

Her voice woke him from thoughts of the sketches he had in his book, locked in his apartment. Steve offered a small smile as Helen moved the oxygen mask from his mouth. She was gentle, slipping the elastic band from behind his ears with infinite care. Once it was set aside, the doctor shone a small penlight into his eyes, a smile telling Steve she was pleased with the findings.

“How bad is it, Doc?” Steve asked, aware that her scrutiny did things to his belly that weren’t all that comfortable.

“You broke your back in three places,” Helen said clinically. “The Cradle has almost finished repairing the damage. You’ve been out for three days.”

Steve blinked, suddenly concerned with the rest of his team. He wanted to swing out of the Cradle to locate them all, to shout for a debrief. Helen’s hard gaze, however, kept Steve in place. He was relatively sure the tiny Korean woman would cow Loki with that look.

“Dr. Banner is resting in the secure wing. I was able to repair Natasha’s broken arm rather quickly with the Mobile Cradle. Everyone else had only minor abrasions and bruises. We were very lucky.”

Steve laid his head back, silently agreeing that they had come out of the fight in much better shape than could be expected.

“You’ll need to stay put for another day or so, and even then, it’ll be light duty for a while, Steve.” Helen’s voice had a sort of melodic quality. Steve found he liked to listen to the rise and fall of her words as she spoke.

“Anything you say, doc.” Steve nodded, concentrating on wriggling his toes. It was with immense satisfaction that he felt the blankets slide over the toes. That means he could move them. “Thank you.”

Helen turned those devastatingly golden-brown eyes onto his, succeeding in making Steve’s heart clench so hard in his chest that the monitor gave one alarmed chirp in response. Wary of her trying to figure out what has caused the spike, Steve cleared his throat.

“How is Dr. Banner?”

Those molten eyes seemed to turn sad. Helen reached for the water beside the Cradle, lifting the glass and straw to Steve’s parched lips. He hadn’t even noticed how dry his mouth was until she offered him the water. He drank deeply, suddenly aware that cool water was probably the best thing on the planet.

“Wary,” Helen replied quietly as he finished drinking. “He will not speak to anyone, not really. I know he has allowed Wanda and Natasha into the room, but no one else.”

Steve frowned, thanking her for the water. “Do we have any idea what happened to make him change?”

Her sad eyes closed as Helen shook her head. “No. And he will not see me.”

Unable to help himself, Steve reached out to squeeze her hand. Helen looked surprised by the gesture, but she did not pull away. She allowed Steve to hold on to her, offering silent comfort.

“We’ll figure it out,” Steve assured her. “I know we will.”

Helen replied with a small, thankful smile. They remained that way for a moment longer, simply leaning on one another for support. Steve’s heart did another hard _thud_ in the center of his chest. The monitor chirped once more. Steve cleared his throat as Helen turned to stare at the monitor, to determine what was spiking his heartrate.

“I’m starving.” Steve said somewhat bashfully. “Any chance of some breakfast?”

Helen offered a slightly mischievous smile. “Well, since it’s an hour past dinner, maybe I can find you some leftovers. Stay still. Don’t get up.”

Steve held up his hand innocently. “Scout’s honor.”

~**~

 

Inside the reinforced secure wing, Bruce lay on his cot. The music playing over the intercom seemed to have the desired effect. Soft chimes and smooth woodwinds were always a favorite to tame the beast inside of the man. So far, he seemed in control of himself. Bruce, however, wasn’t taking any chances.

For the moment, Wanda was inside. Bruce seemed to trust her, at least as much as he trusted anyone. There seemed to be a bond between them, since Scarlet Witch managed to contain the beast and bring Bruce back to the surface of his tortured mind. They were in some kind of session now, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

Natasha stood outside of the secure room, watching Bruce through the glass as Wanda slid into his mind again. She wasn’t sure what they were doing, exactly. Every time Bruce came out of one of their little mind-links, he seemed…better.

She didn’t wince as pain lanced through her arm. Natasha continued to rotate her wrist, ignoring the crackling of new tissue as it adjusted inside of her body. The Cradle was a remarkable invention, though not without its own problems.

Bruce hadn’t let go of Natasha until he was forced to. He had crawled into her lap over the battlefield in Buenos Aires, clinging to her as though she were the lifeline he needed amid the madness that surrounded him. Natasha held him, singing little lullabies as they rushed back to New York.

Now that he was here, relatively unharmed, Natasha found she couldn’t enter the room. The last thing she wanted to do was scream at him for abandoning her after all they had said, all they had been through. She couldn’t go in that room and be some pissed off wife, that wasn’t her style. Right now, however, she had a broken arm, a tattered uniform, and hadn’t seen her bed in almost a week.

She was a little cranky.

Natasha wasn’t one that liked dealing with feelings. They were alien and unwelcome, something the Red Room had tried to breed out of her. She’d broken, little by little, thanks to Clint and Nick and even Steve and Sam. But Bruce, she wasn’t prepared for Bruce.

It churned inside of her. The desire and affection, the fear and anger. When he’d left her in Sokovia, Natasha tried to banish anything resembling fondness for the good doctor with limited results. When that hadn’t worked, she simply worked missing Bruce into her routine. A routine she’d been faithful to for nearly a year. The routine that Bruce shattered simply by existing in the same zip code as herself.

No matter how she wanted to go inside and wrap herself in his arms as they had for those few precious hours at the Barton Homestead, Natasha knew she couldn’t do that. Bruce wasn’t allowed to simply run away for months at a time before crawling back into her arms. Natasha couldn’t allow that, she simply wouldn’t.

But it was impossible to stay away.

As Wanda left, Natasha paid the young Avenger no mind. Bruce lay back on the bed again, this time more exhausted than he had a few moments before. Wanda moved away without a word, probably aware that it was not the time to attempt talking with the infamous Black Widow.

Natasha hesitated only a moment before she tapped her passcode into the panel that would allow her into Bruce’s quarters.

It was sparse inside, with only a too-hard bed, a table with two chairs, and a small television set to speak of. She knew there would be a small bathroom behind the door across from the entrance, and it wasn’t much to speak of. Still, Bruce was able to get clean and comfortable in the rooms, though his actions were under strict monitoring at all times.

He looked up when she entered. For a moment, Natasha saw pain slash across his face. She blinked, looking away, and when her gaze found his again, the flash was gone.

She wouldn’t move to the bed. After hesitating in the doorway for a moment, Natasha crossed the room to the table. A quick kick of one leg brought the chairs into position, so Natasha sat in one chair, propped her legs on the other.

Her hands folded in her lap, resting there in a sort of awkward relaxation. Natasha kept her gaze on Bruce, watching him as he watched her. Natasha was reminded of predators in the wild, circling and gauging to find out which would strike first.

To her surprise, it wasn’t her.

He heaved a heavy sigh, then paused for a moment before Natasha heard his voice for the first time in almost a year.

“I’m sorry, Natasha.”

She kept his gaze across the room, wanting to speak at the same time she utterly lacked the ability to do so. After a moment, Bruce broke eye contact, as though sensing he wouldn’t get a response from her.

Natasha settled in the chair, keeping her eyes on Bruce. He looked up at the ceiling, sighing once more.

“F.L.I.P., take the lights down to a quarter, please.”

“Yes, Doctor Banner.” The disembodied voice replied before dimming the lights.

Aware that he could no longer clearly see her, Natasha dropped her gaze to her hands. She couldn’t leave, but she couldn’t speak, either. For now, that would have to do.

 

~**~

 

“ _In that brief glance, Vronsky had time to notice the restrained animation that played over her face and fluttered between her shining eyes and barely noticeable smile that curved her red lips. It was as if a surplus of something so overflowed her being that it expressed itself beyond her will, now in the brightness of her glance, now in her smile._ ”*

“I do not understand.”

Vision turned to her as she finished the passage of the book. This wasn’t uncommon. Vision often had questions when they were reading something as dense and beautifully written as _Anna Karenina_. He could recite the words easily, but understanding them was something all new.

Wanda smiled when he turned those copper eyes on her, assessing her expression as she smiled at him. The android endeavored to become more human, not because he wanted others to be comfortable with him, but because he strived to know more. It was never enough to merely recite the words, Vision wanted to know why they were so important.

“It is a common theme,” Wanda said lightly. “Love at first sight. In Tolstoy’s time, it was a very common theme. Love was almost a living thing, able to strike without warning at the simple sight of someone. It could tear down dynasties, destroy families, and free the soul.”

Vision continued to stare at her as though she’d grown another head. Wanda hid a smile behind her battered copy of the Russian classic, knowing he would only become withdrawn if he thought she was laughing at him.

Honestly, Vision was completely sweet with his utter innocence.

“But to love someone is to know them.” Vision continued. “You must understand that person’s soul, their very being, if what we’ve studied in the past is any indication. How can anyone fall in love at first sight?”

Wanda shrugged her shoulder, trying to come up with an idea of how to explain such a foreign concept.

“Well, just because you have an ovum and a sperm cell doesn’t mean you can create a child. All of the pieces are there, but it takes a moment of something miraculous to make life from nothing. Love can be that way as well. Just the sight of someone can endear them to you.”

She felt her cheeks redden and hoped he hadn’t noticed. As she thought of the first time they laid eyes on one another, Wanda recalled that feeling. She touched the innocence of his mind, the marveling wonder he had with the very world around him, and felt herself drawn to it.

“Perhaps it cannot be quantified into any real terms.” Vision said dubiously.

“Perhaps it is simply not meant to be understood.”

At her words, Vision looked at her in the quiet, calculating manner he had. Wanda opened her mind to his, watching as the Mind Stone flared with excitement. Vision slowly touched her consciousness, with that soothing manner he had in droves. Wanda offered a small smile as he peered into her brain, searching for any indications of love.

Surely, he would only find the love for her brother.

_Pietro._

Vision pulled back a moment later, his face impassive. Wanda narrowed her eyes slightly, wondering at the way he was looking at her. Intriguing. What had he seen inside her mind?

“Will you continue, please?” He asked in a soft tone.

Wanda nodded, opening her book to continue the tale of Anna Karenina.


	4. Nothing Lasts Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce battles his demons. Sam has a startling encounter with an Enhanced.

**Chapter Four: Nothing Lasts Forever**

He came to slowly, as though he were drugged into a deep, beautiful sleep. His eyes refused to open, but as consciousness lifted him slowly from the dregs of misshapen dreams, he could hear the world around him. Everything was so quiet, almost unnaturally so. The sharp song of an unrecognizable bird echoed overhead, the rustle of leaves telling him that the creature had taken flight.

Beneath him, Bruce could feel the icy wetness of aging snow. It wasn’t the fresh powder suitable for skiing, but the crusty film that covered the landscape in the days after a storm. Why was there snow? Shouldn’t it be warm now?

Lifting his lids to view the world was a Herculean effort. Bruce had to bat his lashes slowly, trying to adjust tired ocular nerves to the brightness of the sun. Nothing was familiar about the thin canopy of pine trees that stretched above him. His nose caught the hints of pine fragrance from the soaring trees, mixed with the scents of devastation. War.

Bruce sneezed the remnants of burnt oil, smoke, and the coppery tinge of blood from his nostrils. He couldn’t remember how he had come to be here or why he smelled the remains of battle nearby. That wasn’t unheard of, though. If the Avengers called for a Code Green, he sometimes had no idea where he was when he awoke.

Usually, though, Natasha was nearby. She had clothes for him, and a soft voice that kept the beast at bay a moment longer.  He couldn’t hear the familiar hum of her voice nearby, reminding him that it was safe, that the Other Guy wasn’t needed anymore. In fact, Bruce couldn’t hear anything.

He checked his ear, searching for the communication device that somehow kept him linked to the team even through transformations. It wasn’t there. Wait. Why wasn’t it there? The little earpiece had survived much worse than what he was looking at now. It only wouldn’t be there if he wasn’t on ‘the job’.

That meant he had changed into the Other Guy without the Avengers nearby. Or had he changed and forced his friends to take him down?

“Tony?” Bruce called out for his friend, whom seemed never far when something like this went down. If Nat wasn’t close by, Bruce could usually count on Tony to be within shouting distance.

He shook himself, listening for sounds that someone, anyone was coming closer. What happened? Why couldn’t he recall anything that happened before he turned into the menacing monster that forever lingered under his skin?

The smell of blood came back on a short burst of chilled wind. Bruce sat up, his body aching in that bone-deep way only possible after the change. Turning into the Other Guy was physically demanding in of itself, when he decided to tear the world apart, it made things even more draining. Bruce shook his head as he balanced on his backside, trying fruitlessly to figure out what was happening in his head, what had led him to awake alone in the snow-strewn woods feeling like he’d been to hell and back.

When he managed to open his eyes again, Bruce realized his hands were covered in sticky half-dried blood. He startled, staring down at the familiar appendages as his heart hammered forcefully in his chest.  As his eyes focused on the thick rivets of blood snaking down the flesh of his fingers, he noted that the snow beneath his feet oozed with the substance as well.

Slowly, Bruce’s eyes followed the line of blood further into the woods. He could see, in the distance, the remains of what looked like an old cabin, the bits still standing billowing smoke into the crystal-clear blue sky above.

The long river of blood seeping into the snow however brought Bruce’s eyes to rest on the impossible.

“ _No._ ”

Her body was crumpled in a heap against the mountainside, her green eyes open and unblinking. From where he sat in the snow, Bruce could see the mess of her broken limbs, the blood that soaked into the jeans and thick sweater she was wearing. It was her favorite. The butter-soft cable-knit pullover was died a rich, vibrant red with a slouchy neckline she liked to hide her face in. It had been a gift from Pepper Potts two Christmases ago, something she loved and always packed in the chilly months.

The darkening spots on the chest, however, had marred the soft fabric forever.

Bruce scrambled to his feet, sliding in the crimson-stained snow in his frantic attempt to reach her. His own nudity meant nothing; he could no longer even feel the cold. Clumsy feet still acclimating to his smaller form tripped over rocks and roots, sending him to land on his hands twice in the maddening dash to reach her body.

“Natasha.” Bruce’s voice broke between the syllables of her name. He crouched in front of her, aware of the silence around them, the sudden stillness.

Trembling hands reached for her broken body, almost unable to touch her. When he managed to put his fingers to her throat, the lack of a flickering pulse told him all he needed to know, what he had expected. A sob echoed in his chest, forcing his face to crumble, his head to bow as the weight of it hit him.

She was dead. Natasha was dead.

“Tasha.”

The word was a strangled sob. He wanted to curl into a ball in the snow, weep for what he had done. There was no doubt in his mind that Natasha had died at his hands, the hands of the monster that slept inside of him. He had warned her, hadn’t he warned her? Getting involved with him was a suicide mission. And he’d done it; he had done the thing he feared the most.

With delicate hands, Bruce reached for her again. He gently drew her fractured body into his arms, falling back onto his backside in the snow to hold her deadened weight. That deep red hair lay in a tangled mess down her back, her beautiful face now frozen in death, streaked with blood. Those once-luminous eyes stared blankly forward as her head lolled back over his arm. Bruce settled her in his arms, trying to avoid hurting her, though that very idea was ludicrous. She was beyond pain now.

Once she was settled against his chest, Bruce buried his face in her hair. That fiery mane still smelled of oranges, a citrus fragrance that haunted his sleep. He wept against her, unable to even call out for help. It was too late for that; the monstrosity that slumbered inside of him had finally done the unthinkable. The Hulk had taken away someone he loved, someone he would have died for.

No, Bruce amended the thought, rocking his lover’s remains gently. He wanted to _live_ for her.

“Natasha.” He pulled her more closely against his chest, pressed a kiss to the chilled flesh of her temple. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

~**~  
“No. Natasha.”

He sat up with a start, nearly falling from the too-hard bed beneath him. As his eyes opened, Bruce realized that he was not in the woods. It was not snowing. He was not cold. His hands moved to brush hair from his face, the fingertips clean. There were no streaks of blood on him. He had clothes on.

“God.” Bruce swung his legs over the side of his bed, thrusting his hands into his hair. His entire body shook as he focused on the sounds, the smells around him. No blood, no scorched oil. The room was warm; someone was speaking over an intercom in that slightly robotic voice.

“Bruce.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, oddly soothing. “You’re all right. You were dreaming.”

“Not a dream.” Bruce ground the words out, his trembling hands sweeping wearily over his face. He couldn’t get the image out of his head. He could still _feel_ the lifeless body of the woman he wanted to give it all up for against his chest, her chilled blood seeping onto his skin. “A nightmare.”

He could hear the small smile in her tone when she spoke again. “Comes with the job, or so I’m told.”

He looked up, finding her in the same chair she’d been in when he drifted off. The zip of her uniform was pulled down slightly, revealing the soft body stocking she habitually wore beneath her leather. It was a gesture that told him she’d felt comfortable, if only for a moment. Natasha’s guard had come down. Her eyes were tired, though they were not hideously still as she stared at him across the meager space of his ‘room’.

Unable to help it, Bruce reached for her. He wanted to touch her, to reaffirm that she was alive. Her skin would be warm and soft against his, just as he remembered from the night he gave into the desire burning between them. He thought of how she felt against him, the way her body melted when he kissed her. Being with Natasha in that one night meant more to him than he could express.

Before he could touch her, though, Bruce remembered. He had left her, with no explanation or excuse, only to be found ravaging the coastline of Buenos Aires some months later. Bruce did not deserve to reassure himself that Natasha was alive and well.

Torn up inside, Bruce dropped his hand. He couldn’t tell from the flash in her familiar green eyes if that irritated or relieved her. All at once, Bruce couldn’t take the pressure. His head dropped into his palms once more as he exhaled an explosive breath.

Seeing Natasha dead at his hands wasn’t uncommon, but it never got any easier to deal with.

“I need to be alone.” The doctor said, his voice catching as it had when he called her name in the snow. “Please, Tasha.”

For several long moments, the assassin did not move. Bruce only knew she was still in the room because he could feel the heavy, familiar weight of her stare on him. Natasha’s breathing seemed to quicken, the sound of her exhaling oddly soothing. He had not killed her in reality, only in that awful place where dreams destroyed him.

“You’re not the only one with nightmares, Bruce.” Her voice was even, the tone low. “We all wake up from our worst fears, where the people we love have died and our hands are stained with their blood. That’s the monster that lives inside each of us. It’s the price for what we are.”

“Tasha…”

Bruce couldn’t look up as the chair legs scraped over the white tile floor. He kept his head in his hands as the door hissed open and Natasha left the room.

 

~**~

It was dark by the time Wilson finished his Avenger duties. He’d trained, sifted through military Intel and then stopped in to see Cap at lunchtime, making sure the Avengers leader was out of bed for the prescribed two hours as Dr. Cho commanded. Sam wasn’t one to cross a woman that could repair or delete bones and tissue, so he gladly helped the recovering super-soldier with his physical therapy.

All in all, his friend was recovering nicely. Steve didn’t seem to let being injured get him down, especially when his recovery time was supernaturally fast. And, it didn’t hurt that Dr. Cho was a good looking woman. Sam teased Steve about the way his eyes drifted to the Korean woman, though he thought there was a good chance the doc stared back when he wasn’t looking.

He was chuckling to himself as he pulled the Camaro he leased as part of the move to upstate New York into the parking lot. It wasn’t a conscious decision that Sam made to move into the same building as Cap, but he wasn’t upset about it. They had similar tastes in quiet, beautiful places to live. Besides, it made life easier when the Avengers were in the same area.

Sam was whistling to himself as he hopped out of the car, popping the trunk to retrieve the spare change of workout clothes that desperately needed a wash. He grasped the duffel by its handle, and then closed the trunk in time to hear a particularly feminine voice behind him.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re whistling a Taylor Swift song, handsome.”

Sam turned, one hand drifting to the gun he habitually tucked into his waistband.

The woman was leaning against a dark Mustang parked in the visitor’s slot behind his car. She was, in one word, _hot._ Sam let his gaze travel the length of her once, trying not to stare. Long legs were clothed in dark denim, a black shirt covered by what looked like a heavy leather jacket that matched heeled boots. He immediately noticed her eyes, a deep shade of brown that hinted at secrets he might want to delve into.

Her dark hair grazed her shoulders in soft waves, her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans.

Sam relocated his ability to speak a moment later, releasing the light grip he had on his gun.

“Well, it’s Taylor.” Sam said with a grin. “She gets stuck in the head worse than the greatest hits of Marvin Gaye.”

The unnamed woman snorted delicately. “What is it with men and _Sexual Healing_?”

Chuckling, Sam took a step closer, offering his hand for her to shake. “Sam. Wilson.”

Her smile was bright, impish and slightly sexy. “Daisy. So, you live here, Sam?”

He jerked his head toward the car he’d just parked. “That’s why I’m parked on the resident’s side. You?”

Daisy shook her head, leaning back on the flank of her car. “Nah. Looking for a friend of mine, actually. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

_If this is another Captain America groupie, I’ll scream_.

It happened more often than anyone let on. With information literally at someone’s fingertips, it was at least a few times a month an over-enthusiastic fan would wind up at one of the Avengers’ doors. The last time, it was poor Wanda woken up in the middle of the night by a woman repelling down the side of her building with a camera.

“His name’s Lincoln.” Daisy offered openly. Her smile spread a little further over her mouth, an inviting turn of the lips that Sam was adult enough to know was designed to turn him on. It worked.   
“Bout so tall, blonde, good looking in a pretty way.”

Sam shook his head with a chuckle. “Can’t say I know him, but I’ve only lived here a couple of months.”

Daisy pouted, pulling her phone from her pocket as though checking for something. About that time, Sam’s own cell began to vibrate in his pocket. Excusing himself, Sam shifted the duffel so he could pull the phone out, smiling a little when the screen told him it was War Machine calling. Since his cohort was on Watch for the night, he had no doubt his friend simply needed something to assuage the boredom.

He almost didn’t answer, but Daisy was absorbed in her phone. Sam shrugged a shoulder, turning around as he connected the call.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re bored already.” Sam teased in greeting. “You’ve got another 18 hours ahead of you.”

The voice of Colonel Rhodes, however, was stern.

“Wilson.” Rhodey said with uncharacteristic sharpness. “That girl you’re talking to is wired. F.L.I.P. is reading Enhanced signatures all over her.”

In one fluid movement, Sam turned. He dropped the duffel and his mobile phone, confident that Rhodes had sent him back up before even dialing. His military training gave him an edge in battle, but against an Enhanced – without the Falcon armor – it was a matter of time before someone could actually kick his ass.

And, unfortunately, the super-hot girl named Daisy was ready for him.

Sam blocked her first graceful punch, taking the space between heartbeats to admire her form. He stepped back two paces, easily dodging hits that were far more powerful than they should have been, given her size. She sent a kick toward his stomach, though Sam was quick enough to block the motion with a forearm brace. This was not a brawler, or a boxer, not even someone trained in mixed martial arts. From the way she spun out of his range and took a fighter’s stance, he could see the woman was trained to subdue, to win.

This might be trouble.

“Sorry, Sam.” Daisy said with a derisive chuckle. “At least you’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere now, honey.” Sam shot back.

“Maybe not.” Daisy smirked. “But this will.”

Both of her dainty hands shot out, causing the very air around him to shiver. Sam felt his entire body begin to tremble, as though he’d stepped into too cold air without enough clothing on. It wasn’t a natural response, however, that much he knew for sure. His skin felt as though it were vibrating off of his bones. It reminded him of a seizure, even as the force of her power directed him backward. Sam landed in an ungraceful heap on the pavement.

By the time he looked up, she was racing toward the building at top speed.

Grunting, Sam shook himself as he tried to stand. “Oh, _hell_ no.”

Though he stumbled, he took off at a dead run. The earpiece he kept tucked into his inner jacket pocket went into his ear, activated the second it was in place to connect him to the Avengers.

“ _We’re on our way, Wilson!”_   Natasha was shouting over the sound of her motorcycle.

“She’s headed north!” Sam shouted back breathlessly as he ran through the open corridor of his apartment building. “I’ve got a visual. We’re headed for the woods.”

“ _Sam._ ” The accented voice of Wanda Maximoff seemed supernaturally close. “ _Sam, look up.”_

Mid-stride, Sam turned his eyes toward the sky above him. He grinned at seeing Scarlet Witch floating above him, and it turned into a laugh as she dropped what looked like a heavy metallic suitcase directly at his head.

As it fell, Sam stretched out his arms. The Falcon armor scanned his person until it located the wrist beacons he hardly noticed anymore. Since it was coded to know where the bracelets were, the armor was now designed to affix itself to his body within seconds.

Sam enjoyed ‘suiting up’, as Rhodes called it. The feel of his Falcon armor – improved by Tony Stark – was light, slightly cool, and dangerous. It flitted over his body, attaching itself perfectly so that the wings immediately thrust themselves out. Sam was all smiles as his specially designed goggles went over his eyes, giving him a heads-up display that matched even War Machine’s.

Now ready for battle, Falcon thrust himself into the sky. The girl was still headed toward the woods, her heartrate and blood pressure having jumped several levels in the last thirty seconds. She hadn’t expected the Avengers to converge, certainly not so quickly. That proved to be a grave mistake indeed.

Sam dove into the copse of trees that hid the tiny Enhanced woman, grasping her by the back of her jacket before she could throw tremors at him again. He lifted her into the air, heedless to her struggles.

“Witch! Could you gift-wrap this for me?” Falcon called out over Daisy’s struggles.

“ _With pleasure, Falcon._ ” The Sokovian woman’s grin was audible in her tone.

Scarlet tendrils of magic snaked over the woman in his hands as he gently landed on the grassy plain that led to the woods. She struggled against the binding, but Scarlet Witch’s magic wasn’t to be so easily undone. Within heartbeats, Daisy had her arms pinned by magic, her entire body held in Wanda’s vicious clutches. Almost as an afterthought, Wanda tied the ‘ropes’ of magic into a large, ostentatious bow over Daisy’s chest. Sam had to cough to cover a laugh.

Witchy got a little touchy when someone tried attacking one of her own.

Falcon stepped back, holstering his metallic wings as Wanda landed beside him. Black Widow arrived a moment later; having taken a few seconds to scout the tree line to be sure Daisy was alone. Her suit was spotless, not a hair out of place, but to anyone on the opposite side, the Black Widow was deadlier than the spider from which she derived her name.

Sam adored her.

“We’re clear.” Natasha said in a businesslike tone as she slid her guns back into the holsters. She reached Falcon and Witch with her eyes on Daisy, the flash in those green orbs deadly. “OK, bird-boy?”

“Oh, yeah, spider-lady.” Sam shot back, his eyes still on the proud profile of their captive. “Nice timing, as always, ladies.”

“Now, what were you planning to do with Falcon?” Natasha asked, stepping too close to Daisy. Sam knew that move, it’d make anyone uncomfortable for a myriad of reasons.

“Caterpillar.”

At Daisy’s even-toned response, Sam arched a brow. He looked from Wanda to Natasha, trying to gauge their reactions. Caterpillar? What the hell was Caterpillar?

“Tell Captain Rogers my name is Daisy Johnson and I’m here about Operation: Caterpillar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Daisy has finally arrived. Yay.
> 
> Stay tuned for chapter five!


	5. Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers interrogate Daisy.
> 
> Bruce and Natasha have a vulnerable moment.

**Chapter Five: Don’t Go**

  _I'm sorry I did not mean_ _  
_

_To hurt my little girl_

_It's beyond me_

_I cannot carry the weight of a heavy world_

_So, Goodnight, Goodnight, Goodnight, Goodnight_

_\--Maroon 5_

So, she hadn’t prepared for this eventuality. At least, not exactly.

The Intel was good, that much she knew for certain. Coulson would never have let her walk into the den of the Avengers with bad information. Of course, she wasn’t supposed to come into direct contact with the Avengers. She only calculated the altercation with Wilson thinking he would be the easiest mark, especially without his armor. Not much was known about him, after all, aside from his work with Captain Rogers and the search for the man once known as the Winter Soldier.

She certainly hadn’t counted on the team rallying as quickly as they had.

The gauntlets holding her hands were imbued in some way, keeping her from using the power she relied on. It was the only thing that might have protected her from Captain Rogers or the one they called Scarlet Witch. Going up against the Widow or War Machine probably wouldn’t have ended well no matter what. Not that Wilson was much better when he had the Falcon armor on.

Daisy tried her hardest to _not_ completely fangirl out as they pulled up to the New Avengers Facility, though she was forced to bite the inside of her cheek to accomplish such a feat. They marched her out of the Humvee Scarlet Witch drove from the apartment building with Widow holding onto her arm. It was a veiled threat. No one was stupid enough to attempt escaping from the Black Widow. Something like that would more than likely prove to be fatal. Daisy tilted her chin up defiantly as they entered the building she knew housed the Avengers, their team, and the gear they needed for peace keeping.

Later, Daisy would let herself think about the cool metallic walls and the echo of boots bouncing from floor to walls. Tech was everywhere, embedded into the doorways, monitoring all activity. Stark didn’t just retire from the team and leave them to their own devices. He was much more content simply inventing things to help them, sending it along like a care package.

The red haired assassin beside her pulled open the door to what looked like a conference room. Daisy was unceremoniously deposited into a chair by the same woman. Natasha Romanoff ignored her look of annoyance as she took her place at the back of the room, flanked by both Wilson and the brunette Coulson called Scarlet Witch.

_What kind of codename is that?_

She stared straight ahead as the opposite door opened. Captain Rogers appeared in the doorway, looking just as muscled and – oddly – beautiful as he did in pictures. Daisy noted the tension in his jaw, the deceptive cool etched into his face and wondered what, exactly, he knew about her mission.

“Miss Johnson, I presume?”

“Agent.” Daisy shot back without hesitation. “Agent Daisy Johnson. Codename: Quake.”

“Quake?” Captain America arched a brow. “OK. And what brings you to our part of the country, aside from trying to dupe Sergeant Wilson?”

“I wasn’t trying to dupe anyone,” Daisy replied with a smile. “I was just asking some questions. Your guys got all twitchy having an Enhanced in the field.” She shot a look to Wilson, a brow lifted in question. “Is that some sort of superhero classism? I can’t be one of you unless I’m registered? Sounds a little judgy.”

Daisy could have sworn the man known as Falcon smirked back at her, but it might have been a trick of the light.

“Ok,” Rogers cut in once more. “What do you want, Agent Johnson and what does it have to do with Operation: Caterpillar?”

At this, Daisy sat back in her chair, astonished. She hadn’t expected that to work. Had Coulson really been able to get a message to the Captain? Did Rogers know about Coulson? Did all of them? Unable to reach her team, Daisy began to feel the first measure of panic.

They hadn’t trained her to be interrogated by heroes.

“I’m looking for someone.” She decided to edge around the truth and that was true enough. “You might have the person listed as an Enhanced, but that’s not – strictly speaking – correct. We’re not Enhanced. We are Inhuman.”

A pin drop could have sounded like a canon-blast following her statement. Daisy ripped her gaze from Rogers to take in the reactions of Widow, Witch, and Falcon. None of them seemed to betray any shock, but that might have been the training at work.

Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips quickly. “Look, I don’t have all of the answers. All I know is that I’ve got alien blood in my veins – Kree blood – mixed with human. I was exposed to a device that activated latent powers hidden in my genes. There are others out there, like me, and they have no _idea_ what happened to them. I’m just trying to find one of them, to help if I can.”

Still, there was no reaction from the people gathered in this room. Daisy raised her secured hands, irritated when she couldn’t even run her hands through her hair in frustration. They weren’t getting it. They had access to the person she needed to see and they didn’t _get_ it.

“I’m not an enemy here. Why would I lie?” Daisy turned to look at each of them in turn, finally meeting the blue gaze of Captain Rogers once more. It took a large helping of will power for her to _not_ go weak at the knees when he hit her with the full effect of that gaze. He was dangerous without using super-powers.

“That’s Caterpillar, isn’t it?” Rogers asked. “It’s the identification of these hybrids, the Inhumans. You’re tracking them?”

Daisy nodded. “Only so I can be sure they’re ok. I don’t want to force them into helping S- the team, but they might have questions, fears…I need to be the one that does this.”

“Because you understand.” The heavily accented voice of the woman Daisy knew as Scarlet Witch piped up from behind her. “You know the fear, the uncertainty, because of what you are.”

Though she couldn’t see the woman from her position, Daisy nodded.

“Yes.”

Captain Rogers crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you think one of these Inhumans is here, at the NAF? That’s why you attacked Wilson?”

“I didn’t attack him.” Daisy rolled her eyes with a groan. “Since when is flirting with an ulterior motive an attack?”

“You did tremor me back a good five feet.” Wilson chimed in from the corner.

Daisy slid him another smile. “A tickle.”

“Children.”

As she turned back to look at Captain Rogers, Daisy deflated a little. She was working on borrowed time as it was. The recruitment for her little project wasn’t going so well and she missed her old team desperately. Just thinking about Coulson and May and Fitz and Simmons…

_Don’t think about Simmons. Don’t._

Taking a deep breath, Daisy gauged the captain again. If he did know the truth about Coulson, it was possible that her old bossman could talk with Cap, smooth the way. If he didn’t, well, she was probably screwed. And how to find out without letting anything slip…?

“You can ask the Director.” Daisy said quickly, her eyes still on Rogers. “If you’re in contact, the Director can give you everything about me. Once that’s done, you can uncuff me. I’m starting to chafe.”

The tightening of Captain Rogers’ eyes allowed hope to flare in Daisy’s heart. He _knew_. He had to know.

“Maybe you’re right.” He stepped away from the table, glancing to his team. “Lock her down, meet me in briefing in an hour.”

The door slammed behind him and Daisy sighed. She stood when Widow approached, allowing the stoic red head to lead her toward the exit.

“Well,” Daisy said lightly as they walked. “This is a lot more fun than the last time I got arrested.”

 

~**~

“You lied to me, Coulson.”

Steve stared at the video screen in his office as he leaned against the desk, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The room was secured by F.L.I.P. which meant no one would come inside or hear what he was discussing unless he allowed them to.

Right now, he was talking to a formerly dead man about the spy he’d sent into his midst.

“I don’t think I lied,” Director Coulson said with that same mysteriously half-smile Steve had become accustomed to. “And I didn’t send her after Wilson. She’s lucky Natasha didn’t rip her apart.”

Steve couldn’t disagree on that score. “No kidding.”

“How is she?” Coulson asked, as he always did. “Natasha.”

“Fine,” Steve answered honestly with a shrug. “Aside from, you know, Banner.”

“Right.” Phil shook his head. “The others?”

It was code. Steve smiled, thinking of the pictures he often got from their farm-bound friend, including drawings from little Lila and letters from Coop. “They’re the same. Keeping an eye on them.”

Coulson smiled again before getting back to business. Only a year ago had that secured message come into his home, bringing Steve up to date on the inner workings of S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson was alive, that hadn’t been an easy one to swallow. After several minutes of staring and stammering, Steve understood why. He didn’t, exactly, like keeping secrets from his fellow Avengers, but Coulson had asked that he keep it all to himself.

Natasha was going to _kill_ him when she found out.

“Skye is one of the best, trained by the best.” Coulson chuckled. “Sorry, Daisy. I’m still adjusting to that.”

“She’s an alien-human hybrid with special abilities?” Steve sighed. “The world is getting weirder by the minute.”

“Tell me about it,” Coulson touched the pad by his desk, sending Steve a secured message. He opened it with a flick of his own fingers, eyes ghosting over the information on the agent known as Quake quickly.

Steve whistled in appreciation. “Trained by Melinda May? Isn’t that the agent that brought Nat in?”

Coulson nodded. “Sort of. She inducted Barton, helped Romanov when he brought her in. Taught them both how to navigate inside of S.H.I.E.L.D. May’s one of the best and Daisy is a quick study. She’ll need your help, Cap. My team wasn’t built for this, but the Avengers are. Let’s take a miscalculation and turn it into something good.”

Steve nodded absently, swiping his hand over the monitor to close Quake’s bio-sheet. He couldn’t deny that it would be interesting to see how she worked, to find out more about the Inhumans and the team Daisy was attempting to put together. Still, it wasn’t a decision only he could make. The Avengers would have to vote.

“I’ll put it to the team. I can’t make any promises.”

“Fair enough,” said Coulson. There was a pause, as though the other man wanted to say something. Steve remained quiet, simply waiting him out.

Loss reflected clearly in his friend’s eyes. When he spoke, Coulson had a slight catch to his tone that he couldn’t quite hide.

“If you do learn more about the Kree nation, any information you have might help us locate one of our own.”

Steve frowned. “You have an agent missing?”

Coulson nodded. “Jemma Simmons, she’s a very close friend of Daisy’s. She went missing several weeks ago while working on a large obelisk we think may be Kree.”

Nodding once, Steve filed the information away. Perhaps the Vision might be able to help or Wanda.

“Anything we can do, Phil, I mean that.”

“Thanks. For now, don’t let Natasha track me down.”

At this, Steve chuckled. “Deal.”

The video conference ended at that, leaving Steve to unsecure his office with a soft command. His back ached, his head was spinning, and his stomach was protesting a severe lack of nourishment. Still, it would have to wait. He needed to check on Banner, make sure Agent Johnson was secure, then try to find a way to convince the team to let her stay on a few days while they learned more about the Inhumans.

Things were just piling on today. _Damn, I have to get that Argentina briefing done._

As Steve moved to push away from the desk, his injured back gave out. He released a startled cry as his right leg buckled, sending him immediately to the floor. Catching himself on one hand, Steve didn’t notice the door to his office opened.

“Captain?”

The soft voice of Helen Cho greeted him. He heard her running footsteps, the clink of metal, and then she was beside him.

“What happened?” the doctor demanded, her strong hands attempting to lift him.

“My back,” Steve grunted. “I must have twisted it.”

“You should be in bed,” Dr. Cho chided gently. “Can you lie flat? On your stomach?”

Grunting with the effort, Steve simply let his body slide until he lay in a very undignified heap of muscle and cotton. He planted his face directly into the thin carpeting, giving no thought to the way he looked. If someone came in right now, he’d have another stupid picture all over the internet to worry about.

“Where does it hurt?” Helen asked as she leaned over his back. Her capable hands found the tender spot on the small of his back almost immediately. Steve let out another yelp, fisting his hands by his head in an attempt to not jump away from the pain.

“You strained the muscle.” Helen said gently. “I shouldn’t have released you so soon.”

Her deft fingers worked over the strained muscle, relaxing the surrounding tissue to relieve some of the pressure. Steve started to relax, if only just. Helen’s hands were miracle workers, this he knew from frequent trips into her medical lab. Her quiet manner and impossibly strong will made her a great ally, but it was the gentle way she handled those around her that turned her into a fantastic friend.

Steve wondered, for a moment, if he could ask her…

Another twinge sent him hissing and banging his head into the carpet.

“Ok,” Helen said sternly. “I’m going to call Sam and James in here so they can help carry you back to medical.” She held a hand up to stop the argument she knew was coming. “Just for another pass over this muscle with the cold laser. In and out, I promise.”

Steve grimaced, nodding once before falling back into the carpet.

“OK, Doc. I give up.”

Helen chuckled as she reached for the phone.

 

~**~

 

He waited for news well into the evening. Bruce managed to shower, contacted Helen for an update on Cap’s condition, which she gave in person rather than via the face screens. He appreciated the gesture, even allowed his old friend to embrace him as she departed.

Having someone miss him was a novelty he would never take advantage of nor forget. He felt better after talking with her, allowed her to take a vial of blood without the Other Guy threatening to make an appearance. Helen left with a promise of coffee in the morning.

Before Bruce could think of something else to do, the door chime rang again. A glance at the monitor showed it was Natasha, with a tray of food in her hands.

Nervous, Bruce ran a hand through his unruly curls before swiping them over his jeans quickly. A nod to his guard told the young woman to open the door, which she did with a swipe of her wrist.

Natasha entered in plain clothes, looking nothing like the hardcore assassin he knew her to be. She had on a pair of jeans, boots, and a simple sweater emblazoned with the Avengers logo. Probably spare things she hid in the office.

The scent of vanilla followed her as she set the tray down. She didn’t look up at him, made no attempt at contact. Bruce knew he’d been an unmitigated jackass following his nightmare. He wanted to apologize, though he didn’t have the words to do so. All he wanted was for her to look at him, to let those impossibly green eyes meet his.

She set the tray down and turned to go, passing in front of Bruce as though he had the animation of a lamp. Without thinking, he reached for her, grasping at one wrist as she tried to step away.

Natasha turned on instinct, attempting to loosen his hold. Bruce tightened his grip, tugging until she came close enough that he could feel the heat of her against his chest.

“Don’t go.” Bruce said without thinking. She turned her beautiful face upwards, looking at him with confusion creasing that space between her brows.

He was reminded of that day at Barton’s homestead, when he’d left the shower to find her waiting. It was that moment, that impossible, improbable moment that Bruce thought he might have a shot to have something, to _choose_ someone. Being a hero couldn’t be enough, not for them. They were tortured and forever altered by things outside of their control. In that one moment, though, Bruce knew that Natasha was such a similar soul.

Natasha wanted him in that moment. And, God forgive him, he wanted her back.

“Don’t go.” Bruce said again, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Natasha asked bluntly. Her eyes glazed over, the assassin sliding in to replace the woman.

It hurt him to see her use that armor against him. Without thinking, Bruce shifted, cupping her cheeks with both hands to hold her in place. That icy exterior faltered, just slightly, just enough to tell him he was getting through.

“For leaving you after the battle.” Bruce said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know why I did, or why I let him. I don’t know what startled the rampage in Argentina and that scares me. I’m afraid, Natasha.”

He had not intended to let that out, to release the demons he held close to his chest. It was there now, and Natasha relaxed a fraction. Her hands moved up to rest over his, hesitant at first, as though she didn’t trust the motion. Within seconds, though, she held his hands with hers, the distant look fading from her eyes.

“Then tell me that.” Natasha whispered. “Don’t just tell me to go.”

It was, perhaps, the most vulnerable he felt since the battle with Ultron, or that day in Buenos Aires. Bruce remembered slowly coming to with Wanda’s help. He recalled, with perfect clarity, crawling toward the salvation of Natasha’s arms when he found himself once more.

His nightmare was a real thing, it lived inside of him. For right now, though, Bruce couldn’t let her go.

He slid his hands from her cheeks, wrapping her strong, slender body in his arms. Natasha pressed herself closer, her arms winding around his back until she could hold him just as tightly.

“Stay.” Bruce asked, unable to relinquish her now that she was in his arms.

The response was immediate, without any hint of trepidation.

“Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed some fluff. And Brutasha feels.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ETA: I went back to make a comment in the second scene a bit clearer. (Pregnancy brain is a killer!)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter Six: Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers decide on Agent Johnson's fate and Steve finally gathers the courage he's been looking for.

Chapter Six: Forward

He took a moment before he entered the room to admire her.

The Vision found himself often lost to his inner thoughts when confronted by the woman known as Wanda Maximoff. There wasn’t anything strange or intriguing about her, in the strictest sense. She was quiet, prone to withdrawing into the background of most conversations or meetings. When she did speak up, it was with wisdom and innocence, something he might have recognized in himself.

Still, Vision took a moment to watch her as she worked in her office. Deft fingers moved in the empty space before her, manipulating the holographic screen that displayed the information she requested.

Her hands gave him another moment of inexplicable pause. He watched her carefully for another few seconds, admiring the way her long fingers danced over the air even without the crimson glow that belied her powers.

All that long hair draped easily down Wanda’s back, her slender arms bared by a sleeveless top that she usually wore under her scarlet jacket. Today, instead of the black skirt she usually preferred, she had pulled on a pair of dark jeans, leaving her combat boots untied, as usual.

Vision wondered why he seemed to watch her as easily as he did. Since the moment of his unconventional birth, Wanda was at his side. He recalled her insistence that his mind appeared filled with annihilation. The look on her face that day was something he still strove to understand.

But never had Wanda shown him any amount of fear. In fact, she seemed to enjoy his company.

How strange.

As he stepped into the room, Wanda did not turn. She continued on her manipulation of the screen before her, those dark eyes flickering over the information displayed.

“There you are.” Wanda’s tone belied that her concentration was on something other than himself, her heavily accented voice melodic. “I have been pulling up all of the information I can find on the Kree.”

“Any luck?” Vision asked as he moved to stand beside her. His cybernetic eyes drifted easily over the screens displayed, the text automatically enlarging in his mind so he could easily read it.

“Nothing concrete.” Wanda replied thoughtfully. “Most of the information I have found is uncorroborated reports from fanatical factions. It reads more like science fiction than actuality.”

Vision was able to form a smile at the irony of her statement. “You scoff at science fiction as an Enhanced humanoid conversing with an android?”

The smile Wanda slid him from the corner of her mouth was sly, her dark eyes dancing with mirth. “That is not the point.”

Since that smile did things to his mind that he couldn’t quite deal with, Vision turned back to the screens.

He noted one of the ‘blog’ posts she had pulled up in one of the tabs of the screen. Vision frowned as he read the text, wondering how much was realistic and what was the product of a diseased mind.

“Are there any common denominators?”

“A few.” Wanda agreed. With a flick of her long, twitchy feelings, Wanda brought up the screen on which she seemed to be keeping the connected information listed. “They are humanoid, with blue skin that can turn to a pinkish hue when exposed to nitrogen. They have regenerative powers, higher strength than humans, and their home planet has seriously adaptive characteristics which means their physicality is a great deal different than humans.”

Vision nodded, agreeing with her assessment. “Have you found anything on their mission with the Inhumans?”

Wanda frowned. “Not much more than what Agent Johnson gave us. The Kree Empire created the Inhumans as a way to bolster their ranks after centuries of war left them depleted. They then abandoned their ‘children’ when the rest of the Empire discovered the secret experiments and set out to destroy it all. Of course, that plan didn’t fully succeed.”

Vision frowned, his positronic mind absorbing the information as quickly as one might load it into a database. Well, that wasn’t too far off the mark. Wanda, it seemed, had been working on this information for some time. The compilation of similarities between the stories surrounding the alien species was thorough, though concise. Vision was able to catch himself up very quickly.

“Their government disapproved.” He said thoughtfully, reaching into empty air to pull up information on a screen hidden behind the others. “I highly doubt that a people willing to destroy children will allow the passage of time to change their feelings.”

Wanda was quiet for a moment, her eyes far away as she considered his words. No matter what they were, it always seemed that Wanda took whatever he said to be very serious. Since some – his teammates aside – dismissed him as one might any electronic device, the feeling of belonging he cherished the solemnity he received from Wanda.

As she turned those fathomless eyes toward him, Vision felt that familiar tug in his chest that wasn’t entirely unpleasant but made him wary all the same. Some of those indescribable tugs in his cybernetic “heart” came from his teammates or others that had gained his trust over the last several months. They had nothing on that warm, quivering feeling that Wanda brought out in him.

Vision mentally shook himself back to the present.

“I think Steve is right,” the woman said softly. “We need to help Agent Johnson.”

 

~**~

One thing Natasha appreciated about working under Captain America was his staunch disapproval of running roughshod. Steve wanted every member of their strange little group to feel valued, their opinion considered with equal weight.

So, the spy turned superhero wasn’t surprised when they were all summoned to a vote. Of course, she was a little shocked to find they wouldn’t have their meeting in the conference room.

Steve was starting to live in the infirmary.

“Are you alright?” Natasha asked as she entered with Bruce at her heels.

Steve sat on a nearby medical bed, stripped to the waist while Dr. Cho passed a laser over his back. Nat lifted an inquiring brow, which turned her beloved super solider pink at the cheeks.

He was awfully adorable when he got flustered.

“I pulled a muscle. One of the new ones.” Steve said in an offhand fashion. “Nice to see you, Dr. Banner.”

“Steve…I’m-“ Bruce moved back, as though he would stammer an apology and bolt. Natasha did not reach for him, afraid he would only run faster.

“Don’t apologize.” Steve cut in sternly. “This isn’t your fault. We’ll find out what happened, Doctor.”

Bruce seemed to relax, if only a fraction. Natasha reached out to tug on his sleeve, moving them both to the left side of the medical bed so Wanda and Vision could enter. Sam and Jim rushed in a beat later, each of them questioning the Captain as to his condition before they could get down to business.

“I hate to do this here, but the Doc insists I get my back treated. I didn’t want to let this sit any longer.” Steve sighed, running a hand over his face. “I got in touch with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s new director. Agent Johnson checks out. She wasn’t ordered to interfere with the Avengers, but her research led us here.”

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, making a mental note that Steve wouldn’t look at her for several moments. That was odd. She and Steve became quite close in the aftermath of the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. They considered one another friends, close friends. It wasn’t normal for her friend to avoid contact with her.

Unless he needed to conceal something.

That made Natasha immediately suspicious.

“What’s the plan?” Rhodes broke into her thoughts, dragging her back to the present.

“The Director would like for us to help Agent Johnson locate the Inhuman she is searching for. According to their research, he or she may be the most powerful they have come across.”

“If the Inhuman is out of control, no way Johnson can handle it on her own.”

Nat shot Wilson a look, surprised by the sympathy in his tone. The girl had, after all, tried to seduce him into helping her before she knocked him on his ass.

Wilson shot her a look that clearly told her to keep her opinions to herself. Natasha filed that one away for later.

“Wanda, Viz, what’d you two find on the Kree?” Rhodes chimed in yet again, but with the tiniest hint of a smirk. He caught her gaze and rolled his eyes toward Wilson. Falcon wasn’t being half as subtle as he thought he was.

“Most of the information Wanda gathered seems to support Agent Johnson’s claim.” Vision chimed in helpfully.

“And, from what S.H.I.E.L.D. has gathered, it appears that the chemical agent leading to the transformations was traced to a fish oil supplement. They are already pulling the product from shelves, but it will be impossible to locate it all.” Wanda added from her semi-permanent position beside Vision.

“So, Inhumans take their daily dose of Omega 3’s having no clue they’re about to be changed into an alien hybrid with powers they can’t understand?” This came from Bruce. Of course, the science would fascinate him.

Maybe this Inhuman crisis was exactly what he needed.

“Yes,” Steve said, experimentally rolling his shoulders. “They’ve tracked at least a dozen down, with more reports coming in every day. Johnson is tackling the most unpredictable. Apparently her powers were pretty destructive until she got a handle on them.”

Sympathy had flooded Bruce’s face when Natasha glanced at him. He, of all of them, would understand the pain caused by something you couldn’t control. Natasha reached out, taking his hand with hers without drawing attention to it. To her surprised, Bruce squeezed back ever so slightly.

Nat would consider that to be a small win.

“The Director wants our help on this, but I won’t force it. If you think we should help Johnson with the Inhumans, we will. If not, I’ll send her back to the Director in the morning.”

Silence followed as the Avengers mulled over the Captain’s words. He as unfailingly fair, Natasha thought as he buttoned his shirt. Dr. Cho had finished his treatment and retreated into her office so they could finish their conversation. Steve remained on the bio-bed, glancing at each of his teammates to gauge their response.

“We can’t let her do this alone,” Wilson was the first to speak. “If the Inhumans she’s chasing are that powerful, she’ll need superhero backup.”

“Yeah,” Rhodes added softly. “Even if the priority is containment and aid, they’re not likely to welcome us with open arms.”

“More than Agent Johnson is at stake here,” Bruce chimed in. “These Inhumans have powerful abilities and no one to help them understand.”

Wanda stepped forward, shaking her head. “I remember how afraid I was when I realized the experiment worked and I knew what was happening to me. We cannot abandon them without even the offer of understanding.”

“Agreed.” Vision’s one word seemed to suffice.

“Nat?” Steve looked directly at her, since she’d not spoken.

“I’m in.” She replied without hesitation. “It’s not our usual, but I was getting a little tired of beating up drug lords anyway.”

Steve offered her a small smile before turning back to the rest of the group.

“OK, so all in favor of bringing Agent Johnson in and working on the Inhuman problem? Good. Go home, we’ll have our work cut out for us soon enough.”

The group began to break up immediately, the Avengers pairing off quickly. Everyone but Falcon would head home, it seemed, since he was on watch for the night.

Natasha turned to Bruce as the others filed out, a small smile crossing her face.

“Let’s get out of here.” She suggested lightly. “I can offer a low stress environment and one mean bowl of alfredo.”

Bruce’s dark eyes were filled with trepidation for a moment, even as Natasha stepped just a hair closer, clasping both of his hands in hers.

“I’m top floor with an exit that leads directly into 100 square miles of New York woodland.” She said seriously. “I’ll kick your ass out of the window before you can cause any damage. Deal?”

He hesitated for another moment before offering a small, trembling smile.

“Can I have two bowls of alfredo?”

Natasha grinned. “Only if you’re good.”

 

 

~**~

Steve wasn’t one to follow doctor’s instructions if he thought he had things to do, but this was the exception. He pulled the zip of his duffel closed, pausing to smile at the emblem printed on the top.

He hadn’t once regretted the words he said to Tony the day that Thor returned home. Being an Avenger, having a team, doing good work around the world; that was being home. At that moment, he thought he had everything he could ever want.

As he moved around the desk, Steve spotted a familiar figure moving passed his office. Through the semi-opaque glass he watched as Helen Cho pulled her familiar, battered messenger bag’s strap over her head. Steve let his heart do that familiar double-beat in his chest, recognizing it from years past.

Steve wasn’t an idiot. He knew that he felt some sort of attraction to Helen Cho. Why wouldn’t he? She had the brain of a scientist, the heart of a warrior, and that steel backbone he had always found so intriguing. He could distinctly recall the moment he found her in Seoul, bloodied and terrified. She insisted he go after Ultron, giving no thought to herself.

For a moment, Steve let himself consider what he wanted to do. There was that twinge of guilt, the one that lived inside of him every day since he came out of the ice.

What would Peggy want him to do?

_You can’t put your life on hold for something that might have been, Steve._

His breath got caught in his chest when he made the decision, grabbing his bag and striding toward the door before he could second guess himself.

For a moment, when he caught sight of Helen in the front lobby, he had a maddening urge to grab the inhaler he hadn’t used in decades. He didn’t even have symptoms of the asthma that plagued his childhood since the day the serum changed his life. It was a silly urge, but one that constantly reminded Steve that he had kept his promise.

His strength hadn’t changed who he was.

“Dr. Cho.”

Steve called out as she stepped through the glass doors. When she turned, that small smile on his face, Steve found himself almost hyperventilating.

Some things never changed.

“Captain. Are you alright?”

“I wanted to thank you,” Steve answered her as they fell in step. “For not telling me that you told me so.”

Helen hid her chuckle behind a hand, her dark eyes glinting with humor. Steve relaxed a fraction, his heart still hammering against his chest. He could do this. Asking a woman to something as innocuous as dinner couldn’t be as terrifying as anything he had faced before.

Could it?

“You’re beating yourself up enough without my help, Steve.” Helen admitted as they moved toward the parking lot. Steve had a moment of panic, until he realized her parking space was, indeed opposite of his. He had another few seconds to gather the needed courage.

“Just relax this evening. You’re released, but you need a little more rest.”

Steve paused beside his Harley, strapping his duffel onto the back. “I don’t feel much like going home. There’s a place on 9th that has the best pizza in town.”

Helen had paused on her way to her car, turning with an indecipherable smile on her lovely face. “Across from the revival theatre?”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. Have you been?”

The woman rolled her eyes with what seemed to be pleasure. “They have the best Jamaican beer in the city. And tonight, they are playing _Some Like It Hot_. I’ve always had a fondness for the Blonde Bombshell.”

Sensing his opening, Steve paused. He arched an inquiring brow to the woman standing behind his bike, pleased to see when she mirrored the movement. He had a green light and he knew it.

Steve clamped down on his nerves, shoved aside the urge to grab an inhaler, and went for it.

“Well, can I tempt you with dinner and a movie?”

Helen’s smile was brilliant, immediate, and lit up her face in a way Steve hadn’t seen before. Her beauty seemed to multiply, leaving Steve somewhat more breathless as he awaited her answer.

“972 Dunst Street. Give me an hour?”

Though he wanted to jump up for joy, Steve managed to return her smile without stumbling over his words.

“Ok.” He answered with a nod, finding his hands were shaking with excitement. “Ok, I’ll pick you up.”

The smile on Helen’s face twitched into something sly, almost knowing.

“It’s a date, Steve.”

She turned on her heel to walk to her car, leaving Steve to turn toward his bike.

For the first time in his life, he was going to be able to keep a date.

Thinking of the Avengers, Steve immediately reached for his mobile phone. A few swipes of his fingers brought up Sam’s name. He dialed quickly, sliding the keys into his Harley so he could get home with enough time to shower.

“It’s me,” Steve said when Sam answered. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything, Cap. You know it.”

“Unless the world is about to end, forget I have a cell phone tonight.”

From the startled pause, Steve knew Sam had that incredulous expression on his face. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah,” Steve grinned as he watched Helen pull away in his side mirror. “I’ve got a date.”

“Oh, damn.” Sam replied happily. “Trust me, even if the world is ending, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Good luck, Cap.”

 

~**~

She’d fallen asleep on her hands when the door opened. Daisy sat up quickly, blinking her eyes. Someone had dimmed the lights for her, making it easier to sleep, but more difficult to determine how long she’d been out for.

The sound of her shackles clinking seemed impossibly loud, but there wasn’t any help for it as Daisy turned toward the door. A tall, dark haired woman with an expression that would obviously brook no foolishness stepped into the room.

Her suit was dark, well cut and sharp enough to take an eye out. Her shoes were just as well maintained, pointy toed, black with a heel that could definitely stab someone. Her hair was pinned back elegantly, but with a twist that told Daisy is was more for function than style.

She looked like she could run a country and kill a person in seventeen different ways with a thumb without mussing her suit. Daisy couldn’t decide if she admired or feared the newcomer and settled on a mixture of both.

“I’m Maria Hill,” the woman said shortly. She produced a small key from her pocket, reaching over to unlock the shackles that kept her restrained. Immediately, Daisy rubbed at sore wrists before stretching the kinks from her fingers.

She was able to immediately put her mental ‘fingers’ on the trembling currents she could control with her Inhuman powers. It felt comfortable, feeling them again, as though she were stepping into old shoes.

Funny how easily being Inhuman became a part of her once she was able to control it.

“Captain Rogers asked that I release you and show you your room.”

“My cell, you mean?” Daisy shot back with a small smile.

Maria Hill shook her head. “Not exactly. We’re quartering you in the hall for guests, and you’ll have some access to the facility.”

Frowning, Daisy sat back in her chair, astonished. She’d been so sure they would either incarcerate her for being Inhuman or immediately ship her back to Coulson where she would have to start all over.

“The team is going to help you locate the Inhumans you want to find, hopefully to help them understand what’s happened in a safe place.”

Dumbfounded by this, Daisy could only open and close her mouth a half-dozen times while Maria took a seat on the table beside her.

“Why?” Daisy asked when she regained the power of speech.

At this, Maria cracked a smile. It illuminated her face, made her seem a lot more approachable. It probably worked for her, the Resting Bitch Face she had going on, but that smile made her approachable, almost likeable. Daisy relaxed a fraction under the smile.

Things weren’t going so badly after all.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this is a group of really remarkable people. Some of them even understand what it’s like to have powers you don’t understand or can’t control. I think they want to reach out, to give you help because they do get it.”

Feeling emotion form a small lump in her throat, Daisy looked away to gather her composure. She didn’t want to seem like a tearful little girl in full view of someone as obviously bad ass as Maria Hill.

When she had more control, Daisy turned back to Hill. The other woman was holding out a security badge swinging merrily from a lanyard. For some reason, the sight of the lanyard made Daisy feel right at home.

She slid the badge over her neck, standing when Maria did to pop the kinks out of her back. As she rolled her head around to loosen the muscles, she exhaled slowly.

“You’re good with the speeches.” Daisy complimented the other woman as they made their way out of the interrogation room. “Reminds me of someone I used to know.”

Hill held the door open for her, that ridiculously attractive face revealing nothing.

“I bet.”

“So,” Daisy changed the subject quickly, moving down the hall to admire the building the way she hadn’t let herself before. “Do you have somewhere I can work? I’d like to track a few leads before I grab some rack.”

“Of course.” Hill led her down the corridor at a brisk clip, which was a really neat trick given the needle-thin heels she wore. “We’ve got an intelligence room right here.”

“Computers? Wifi?”

“All the toys,” Hill confirmed, using a hip to pop open the door at the end of the hall. “And I’ll even throw in coffee, since I’m such a good sport.”

Daisy sighed happily, clapping her hands together with a grin. “Yep. I just had a miniature orgasm.”

That earned her a soft snort of laughter from her companion.

It wasn’t going to be such a bad night after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken two months to get this up! I would blame my pregnancy, but...I can't.
> 
> There will be another update soon, since I can't get enough of the ships in this fic!
> 
> Thanks for all the support!


	7. Casual Intensity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen and Steve start their first date. Falcon and Quake head out on a mission. Bruce and Natasha begin to hash their issues out before the world comes tumbling down again,.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, there's plot in here. I swear! We're getting to it!!

**Chapter Seven: Casual Intensity**

 

 

_Keep it casual._

Her favorite antique mirror reflected dewy skin and bright eyes, something Helen hadn’t had time to get used to in the last 45 seconds. She knew as well as anyone that she could be considered cool and aloof, prone to carrying on her life with very little human interaction. It wasn’t that she didn’t like human. Quite the opposite, really.  She found the entire race to be fairly fascinating.

However, after decades of schooling and diving into a profession that required almost constant work, relationships suffered. She had only a handful of good friends; most of them home in Seoul where her father still lived. The Avengers might be counted as something close to friendship – especially Bruce – but she often found herself alone.

This was probably why she was making such a big deal about a casual dinner with Steven Rogers.

Still, it was dinner. And a film. There would be closeness as they whispered to one another under the dialogue, perhaps as they sat together enjoying the pizza she knew was to die for. She’d given Steve the opening he’d been hinting around during their walk to the parking lot; let him know she considered this more than just a meal between colleagues. Had that been too forward?

Helen paused, her hand stilling in the act of swiping lipstick over her mouth.

Had she been too forward? Steve played catch-up quickly with modern times and technology, but at heart, he was still a good Catholic man from 1945. He wouldn’t appreciate a woman plastering herself all over him since it would only make him uncomfortable. Helen thought back to those moments beside his beloved Harley. No, he hadn’t seemed put off. He’d blushed with the tips of his ears turning a rosy shade that made Helen want to do it again.

He’d been happy when she clarified.

Satisfied with her logic, Helen finished applying her lipstick before dropping the tube into her bag. She ran a hand through her dark hair, fluffing it lightly. Though the decision to wash and dry her hair cut into her outfit-selection-time, Helen considered it worth it. She didn’t think Steve had ever seen her with her hair unbound. Wouldn’t that be fun?

Exactly 61 minutes had passed since she slid into her car when the doorbell rang. Chuckling at Steve’s promptness – could she expect any less? – Helen took one more glance in the mirror.

Her jeans were well fitted and in a dark wash, setting off the cream-colored sateen top she’d pulled on to ward off the humid evening. She’d forgone her comfortable work shoes for a pair of heels that made her feel bold, and then clipped silver studs into her ears where they winked playfully from the dark curtain of her hair when she moved.

All in all, she was feeling pretty amazing when she pulled open her front door.

_Amazing_ got jacked up to _phenomenal_ when Steve caught a look at her.

“Wow.”

Helen cleared her throat, halfway covering a pleased little laugh when his blue eyes darted up and down, as though he wanted to capture the image of her. He smiled brightly, the sort of smile that made a woman’s knees go to gelatin. Helen did her best to stay upright, trying to think of a joke or a pun or anything to make him laugh.

“I scrub up well, don’t I?” She asked with a wink as Steve stepped inside. “And you don’t do badly yourself.”

God above, was that the truth.

Captain America might have done well in his flashy uniform, a shield strapped to his back. It was enough to turn a girl’s head off. Steve Rogers was one for comfortable jeans and t-shirts that stretched over his chest when running around the NAF. Right now, however, was something altogether different.

His slacks were slate grey, his dress shoes new. He had pulled on a dark green button-down, leaving the top button undone to belie his more casual state of comfort. Like her, he’d done well to anticipate the evening’s warmth, so his sleeves were pushed up to reveal taught muscle and creamy skin.

He was, in one word, delicious.

Helen took a moment to compose herself, sliding around his hulking form to grab her handbag from the bar. She pulled it over her shoulders cross-ways before turning back to face him.

What she hadn’t noticed before was the bright bunch of yellow daisies wrapped in parchment clutched in his massive hand.

Helen, for the second time in as many moments, melted.

“I know roses are more romantic,” Steve said, his tone apologetic. “But I’ve always liked daisies the best.”

“They’re happy flowers.” Helen reached out to take the blossoms, sucking in a breath when their hands brushed, just slightly. Steve had always done a number on her feminine side. Seeing him this way took her breath away.

This sweet, charming man was going to be heaps of trouble.

“Thank you. Let me set them in water.”

She bustled back to the kitchen, locating a vase and filling it from the tap. Steve had stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers while he admired her little _butsudan_ affixed to the wall of her living room. Helen unwrapped the flowers as he leaned closer to get a better look, his hands still carefully tucked away as though he feared he might break something.

“Buddhist?” He asked as she settled the cheerful daisies into the water. “I didn’t know.”

“I don’t talk about it at work,” Helen answered honestly. “Faith is a good thing to have among friends; religion can make things a little dicey.”

Steve turned to her, the corner of his generous mouth turned up in a small smile. Helen’s stomach wriggled. That might get annoying…

“You’re a shrewd woman, Dr. Cho.”

“You’re an observant man.” Helen paused. “Captain.”

Steve winced as she came out of the kitchen, her happy little vase clutched in her hands. Helen shifted a few things on her glass coffee table, making room for the vase. As she placed it, she was well aware that it would be the first thing she saw when she returned from her date. Something about that idea, that Steve’s flowers would catch her eye first, was pleasing.

“Ok, from this moment on, we’re Helen and Steve.” Her date said as she turned to face him. “No work, no Avengers, none of that.”

“Just two very good looking people in search of pizza and old movies.” Helen chimed in with a grin.

“Exactly.”

Steve’s smile made the corners of his sapphire eyes crinkle in the most attractive way. He seemed to relax a little further, huffing out a breath as he indicated to the door.

“We better hurry if we want to make the movie.” Steve’s hand went to her back as she turned, leading her gently through the door. Helen did another inward sigh at the manners. He really was a gentleman.

“Do I need my helmet?” Helen asked as they reached her front step.

“Oh, I borrowed Sam’s Jeep.” Steve answered, waiting for her to lock up before they walked toward the black vehicle that was Wilson’s pride and joy. “You have a helmet?”

Helen arched a brow at her date, her mouth sliding into a one-sided grin. “There are many things you don’t yet know about me, Steve.”

He opened the car door for her, his own smile turning somewhat sly.

“Well, looks like I’ll have to find them out.”

 

~**~

He definitely wasn’t falling asleep.

When the door to the observation area slammed open with a loud clatter, Sam startled. He kicked back his chair, almost overturning it as his eyes popped open. Trying to rein in the panic of being suddenly awoken, he looked around to see who or what had brought him out of the not-sleep.

As it turned out, Agent Johnson was standing in the doorway, doing her level best to not bust out laughing. His ego appreciated the effort.

“Sorry.” She snorted delicately, still trying to keep her laughter in as Sam composed himself. “I wanted to use the tracker in here. I might have found something.”

Relieved that she wasn’t going to harp on him for not-sleeping while on watch, Sam lifted himself from the too-comfortable chair he’d been resting in. Daisy had her lanyard and keycard around her neck, but she’d changed out of the jeans and t-shirt at some point.

Her hair smelled damp as he approached, hinting that she’d recently showered. That would explain the standard-issue grey sweats and tank top she’d pulled on.

Sam tried to think of anything else but how good she looked dressed down.

“What’ve you got?” He asked in lieu of doing something stupid.

“That Inhuman I’ve been trying to track, I think he’s close.” Daisy answered, plopping her tablet on the observation control panel. Her deft fingers flickered over the tablet, sliding information onto the holo-imaging map. Sam stood back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Maps flew up, though how Daisy knew what system they were on was a mystery. Cap had said something about the girl being a tech genius, and that showed here. Sam had no effing clue what she was doing. She seemed to have the gist, though, so he clued in as she started talking.

“The cocoon leaves behind a faint radiation signature, and that clings to the Inhuman for a couple of weeks.” Daisy explained. “I’ve been tracking the residue of the thickest cocoon I’ve ever seen. I have samples back at Base.”

Sam grunted. “Cocoon?”

“When we’re exposed to the Terrigen Mist, it takes over our bodies. We create a cocoon. Once we break out of it, we’re changed.”

“Ok.” Sam whistled under his breath. “So, after you hatch you’ve got a glowing beacon. Makes sense.”

Daisy shot him a grumpy look, but Sam pulled innocence onto his face. He didn’t always use humor to deflect, but it was usually funny when he did.

“Something like that. We think that the radiation was used to track and control Inhumans back when we were basically Kree slaves.” Daisy went on. “A leftover from our own evolution.”

“Right.” Same squinted at the map, reading the energy signature she appeared to be tracking. “And they’re each unique?”

“Like a fingerprint.”

The trail of radiation seemed faint as Daisy pulled a street map to overlay the geographic. Sam continued to follow the trail, his brows reaching up to his hairline when it seemed to stop at a nearby hospital.

“Oh, no.”

“Is she…he hurt?” Sam asked, turning to look at Daisy.

“I don’t know.” Daisy sighed. “He could work at the hospital or be visiting someone. This is the longest they’ve stayed in one place.”

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. This was a lead, they needed to follow it. Sam promised he wouldn’t call Cap, and he would keep that. He also knew that Banner needed some time, so calling in Natasha was out of the question. Vision was still on site and Wanda rarely left the NAF, it was possible to run a small fact-finding mission without waking the entire team.

“Suit up,” Sam said sternly. “I’ll get Witch and Vision.”

“I don’t want to scare him.” Daisy said sternly. “Vision’s a little…different, even for us.”

Sam shook his head. “Ok, I’ll call Rhodes. We blend in, get inside, find out who we’re looking for. Once you have a face and name, tracking someone gets a lot easier.”

Daisy nodded, her dark eyes flickering back to the screen above them. “The trail isn’t going to last much longer.”

Sam nodded once. “OK. I’ll get the team.”

 

~**~

Bruce couldn’t sleep, so he knew better than to try.

That wasn’t unusual, not really. Since he’d done the impossible and turned himself into something terrible, sleep had frequently eluded him.

He had bouts of being a decent sleeper. Once, long ago, he’d been able to rest his head in that filthy Calcutta apartment and get a full 6 hours without a second thought. He had done good things in India, before S.H.I.E.L.D. came along to destroy the tranquility he’d worked so hard for. There were little problems he could solve in India, problems cured with a course of precious antibiotics or a steam bath or something tangible he could lay his hands on.

Then, Loki came to destroy the planet. How could he sit on the sidelines? How could he not fight? And for two years, he’d done just that.

Natasha told him all those months ago that she’d had a dream, a dream that seemed so real. Her dream had been that she was an Avenger, that she was more than just the sum of what butchers in Russia made her. Bruce understood that feeling.

For two exquisite years, Bruce was an Avenger. He felt himself coming to an odd peace with the monster that lived inside of him. When provoked, the Other Guy was a force of nature, something no one could control. But, when Bruce needed his help to save his friends, to protect innocent lives, the Other Guy proved to be a remarkable ally.

And, above all things, the Hulk understood how much Bruce cared about Natasha.

So, what had caused his demons to reawaken?

The Other Guy thrashed against the mental bonds Bruce learnt to lock him behind in the aftermath of Sokovia. He wanted to go back, to be an Avenger. Natasha called him a hero. That meant something to the beast. He was more, more than just a towering green rage monster. Hadn’t the Hulk proved that time and time again?

Until he lost control at the hands of a misguided young girl…

He couldn’t risk that again. So, why was he still here?

Natasha came out onto the balcony with a pair of crystal wineglasses in her hands. Bruce could smell the pungent red wine she’d poured into them as she handed him one. Her touch was light as she moved away, an open invitation to speak, though without the expectation that he would. She folded her curvaceous frame into one of the chairs, her dark green gaze cast out over the woodland just beyond her apartment building.

Bruce sipped at the wine, appreciating the gesture. Since she cooked, Bruce had cleaned up. They worked, ate, cleaned while talking, enjoying one another without sterile hospital walls or the prying eyes of their friends. For the first time in months, Bruce felt himself relax, if only a fraction.

They lapsed into familiar silence for a moment. Bruce dragged his eyes away from the woman beside him, trying to not concentrate on how beautiful that woman was when dressed down. He had a hard time not finding her socked feet to be sexy as hell. It was distracting.

As he looked out over the moonlight forest beyond, Bruce leaned on the rail.

“It’s quiet here.” Bruce said softly. “I would have thought you’d like the urban lifestyle.”

“The noise, the smog, the slow walkers?” Natasha quipped. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Nah,” Bruce grinned. “The easy escape routes, vehicles to steal as needed, and crowds to fade away in. It’s easier to get lost, to be anonymous in the big cities.”

She was quiet for a moment as Bruce watched an owl swoop over the tree line.

“I got tired of anonymous.”

Having expected something all-together different, Bruce turned to face the woman he loved. She was curled like a cat on the chair cushion, the moonlight reflecting in her eyes. That green gaze was faraway, as though she were thinking about things it was best not to stare directly at.

Resisting the urge to reach for her – because he knew she wasn’t ready – Bruce leaned his backside against the railing.

“When Steve told me he wanted me to stay on, to co-lead the team, I didn’t know what to say.” Natasha’s voice was a whisper. “You were gone. Stark was retiring, Thor headed back to Asgard and Clint needed to go home. It occurred to me that I got to choose this time. I could go to Clint’s, I could see if Stark was hiring. Hell, I could just turn and fade into the crowd like you did.”

Bruce frowned. “But, you didn’t.”

She turned that devastating green gaze to him. Bruce felt his stomach quiver, which wasn’t uncommon when Natasha turned the full effect of those emerald eyes on him.

“I didn’t want to.” The assassin said simply. “I _wanted_ to be an Avenger. I wanted to be more than what I always thought I was. And here was Steve, his stupid honest face staring at me, asking if I wanted to be a leader. I could be a hero, without any agenda. Steve wasn’t just offering me a job, he offered a home.”

He could see the hope that lit in her eyes as she recalled that moment. It wasn’t revenge on Loki for what he had done to her best friend. It wasn’t eminent danger; it had nothing to do with her training. For once in her life, Natasha got to choose her own path.

She’d chosen to be a hero.

Natasha turned away, her gaze absorbed in whatever was happening inside of her beautiful mind. Bruce continued to look at her, unable to tear his gaze away. Somehow, he knew she wasn’t done.

“I’ve only chosen three things in my life. I chose Clint over the KGB. I chose being an Avenger over freedom.” Her eyes closed, only briefly, as Natasha revealed what had hurt her the most. “And I chose you.”

He felt the blow to his gut as though he’d been hit with Thor’s hammer. Bruce set his wine glass on the railing, stepping toward Natasha. Unable to kill the impulse, he crouched in front of her, reaching up to cup that impossibly soft cheek with one palm.

“I didn’t reject you.” Bruce said the words almost desperately. “You wanted to run from the fight, I couldn’t do that. Then I wanted to run and you weren’t ready. _He_ wasn’t ready, Tasha. The Other Guy can’t be trusted when you’re in danger, and I needed to trust him.”

“Then why are you here?” She asked plainly, keeping her emotions tightly controlled no matter how Bruce could see them swirling in her eyes. “You don’t have control over him anymore.”

“I don’t,” the doctor admitted, shaking his head. “But he’s calmest when you’re close. When I’m close to you, he takes a backseat.”

“Great.” Natasha pulled her face from his grasp. “I’m valium for the Hulk.”

“No. Damn it.” Bruce stood, frustrated that he could never locate the right damn words. “He’s calm because I’m in love with you. I have to protect you and that means he has to chill out. Your effect on the Other Guy is a…byproduct.”

Natasha stood sinuously, setting her wineglass down so hard that she knocked the glass over. The tinkling sound as it shattered seemed lost to the roar of blood in Bruce’s ears. The Other Guy wasn’t trying to take over, he cowered inside of Bruce in the wave of his irritation. For the first time, Bruce felt his alter ego release him, allowing Bruce’s emotions to run free.

That might have been a bad move.

“Now you’re in love with me?” Natasha hissed, staring him down. “You weren’t when you let the Other Guy take the Quinjet into the fucking sunset.”

“Yes, I did.” Bruce shot back, his hands lashing out to grasp at her biceps. He knew she could destroy him with one move, in fact, he counted on it, but he couldn’t deny the impulse. “I just couldn’t be another reason you were in danger.”

“I’m always in danger!” Natasha shrugged out of his grasp with more grace than should be allowed. “I have been every day.”

“Since you were a kid.” Bruce finished. “Since they scooped out a little girl and replaced her with what you think is a monster. But I’m more dangerous than any mark, any mission, any _army_ you’ve fought. Why don’t you understand that?”

Natasha released a sound somewhere between a groan and a grunt. “Because I’m in love with you, idiot.”

The words hung there on the empty air, lingering, echoing. Bruce blinked several times, trying to process what she had said.

He had good arguments for them not pursuing this…whatever it was between them. He’d used those arguments in Clint’s farmhouse, telling her he couldn’t walk away with the job undone. Natasha had no reason to trust him, not since he’d done exactly as she feared.

And yet, here they stood on her terrace, words haunting the meager space between them as her spilled wine dripped over the edge of her table. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe as the truth of what she’d just said dawned in her emerald gaze.

She hadn’t intended to tell him that.

Bruce remained motionless as Natasha suddenly spun on her heel. She intended to choose flight instead of fight. For the first time, Bruce wasn’t going to let anything stop him from reaching.

He took her by the bicep once more, spinning her in his grasp until he could haul her against his chest. Natasha could have used a dozen movements to get out of his arms…she did nothing.

“Don’t walk away.” Bruce whispered the words, his eyes searching hers as she grasped at his arms.

“Back at you.”

Without responding, Bruce pulled Natasha’s slender form closer, crushing his mouth to hers. She answered his unleashed passion immediately, winding her cotton-covered body around him like a vine. Bruce felt his heart slam against the inner portion of his chest as he tasted the lingering hint of Merlot on her tongue when she opened to him. The heat of her body was stark against his, even as he slid one hand to her bottom to yank her even closer.

Natasha groaned low in her throat as Bruce lifted her clear off of the floor. She tumbled closer, wrapping her legs around his waist until he could feel the heated core of her against him. Bruce gasped into her mouth, giving Natasha the chance to fight him for dominance.

He wanted – _needed_ \- to feel her against him, skin against skin, heated breath catching as they strove together. Bruce’s head spun as Nat arched her back when their kiss broke for oxygen. He latched onto her pulse point, marking the flesh there without any hindrance. It was so long, so very long, he wanted this woman. Her devastating eyes, that sly smirk, the beautiful mind…he wanted all of it, to possess her in ways she’d only dreamed of.

Bruce could do that, Nat wanted to give herself over to him.

“Wait.”

At her breathy command, Bruce swore violently under his breath. He pulled back slightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he forced his hands to stay innocent. Bruce swallowed hard, his breath a ragged pant against his would-be lover’s fragrant skin.

“Something’s wrong.”

He lifted his head, immediately locking his eyes onto hers. The passion there had already cooled, so Bruce lowered the slender woman back into the ground. She turned, pulling open the glass balcony door. Bruce hadn’t been able to hear it before, but he could now. The shrill beeping of some sort of alarm had broken the trance.

Natasha had already grabbed her phone by the time Bruce got into her apartment.

“It’s Rhodes.” Nat said abruptly. “Wilson’s missing.”


End file.
